


Rusted

by Polymathema



Category: Amnesia: The Dark Descent, Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: BDSM elements, Blood Magic, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Eldritch Abominations in Love (Cthulhu Mythos), Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic Depictions of Torture, I gave daniel a last name yolo, M/M, NaNoWriMo, Necromancy, No Lesbians Die, No beta we die like mne, Panic Attacks, Period Typical Attitudes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Requited Unrequited Love, Self-Harm, Tentacle Sex, Unrequited Crush, Violence, Xenophilia, all of this is entirely unhealthy, more warnings to be added, not the same two relationships tho, original character death, original characters just out here being gay, pretty OOC all around but look I'm here living my life, self-harm to fuel magical nonsense, shoggoths, the lesbians are ocs tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 115,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26947063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polymathema/pseuds/Polymathema
Summary: It was a different man who returned to London than was the man who had left it. What the Damascus Rose had not burned out of his brain, the madness, the shadow, and the events that came after had seen to it that Daniel was a man reforged and made anew by time and torment. What kind of man he was now only time would tell but he was certainly not the same which was the most he could say for himself.(Tuberculosis, missing pieces, a life put back together, and lingering complicated emotions for a extradimensional entity. Daniel has a lot on his plate and does his best to be a Good Man, even if he might not be a HUMAN entirely anymore.)
Relationships: Alexander of Brennenburg/Daniel
Comments: 20
Kudos: 24
Collections: Untethered





	1. Cringe

**Author's Note:**

> Shove Dracula's timeline back from the latter half of the Victorian Period to sometime before the events of Amnesia, you actually don't need to know anything about this or anything else to read this - Daniel certainly doesn't.
> 
> God will take my ability to throw every horror universe together from my cold dead grasping hands but will have to follow me into hell to do so. So like… everyone is here it’s a big ole’ party.
> 
> The ending I chose is a combination of the actual endings but you'll figure it out as the story progresses. Justine is only referenced in passing via the title character's father and an object similar to one in that game but with different properties.
> 
> If I forgot and left any .... RIBBITS or notations of "fix this later self" please let me know, I combed through but I probably miss things constantly. I went through 60k of it before I broke down and went and looked up how to spell kaernk so you can just imagine what else I told future me to fix later.

It was a different man who returned to London than was the man who had left it. What the Damascus Rose had not burned out of his brain, the madness, the shadow, and the events that came after had seen to it that Daniel was a man reforged and made anew by time and torment. What kind of man he was now only time would tell but he was certainly not the same which was the most he could say for himself. 

On the long journey back from the destroyed remains of Brennenburg he had reviewed what remained of his identity - his personal journal and correspondences as recovered from the remains of that terrible place. What wasn't water-logged or burnt out gave him enough of a basis to set his own reality around. What was truly incriminating he burned before getting on the ship that would carry him home and he knew this action more than any that had come before probably said more about the state of his soul. Just because he couldn't remember doing these things and was disgusted and horrified by his own past actions didn't mean he should survive and thrive. But instinct warred over guilt, he was the only one who had to live with himself, and he had done a very good job of it so far, at least he had somehow lived through Brenneburg which was more than could be said for most everyone who had stepped foot within it for the last few centuries. 

So perhaps he stared into the middling distance too often for the taste of the other travelers, and perhaps he laughed when alone and cried too easily. Some scars were not the kind a body wore that were easily seen, although he had those too. He suspected in his more lucid and bitter moments that it was likely his entire personality break had tempered him enough to survive this all to begin with - the Daniel that left London had died from his madness, he’d killed himself and what remained was a pastiche of all he’d been, but somehow more too. 

Stepping off the boat on unsteady feet there was at once a sense of newness and a vague snap of the familiar, and it was with a sense of elation and then a sharp crash of dashed hopes that he realized he was merely recalling his own journal entries and not any true memories. This he had come to expect, but it still left him on unsteady ground for a moment. 

On the docks there was a theme of bustling industry and Daniel was quickly pushed aside to allow the passage of time and people, when he returned to himself an unknown amount of time has passed and he found himself thankful for the lack of regard in his fellow man, perhaps this thought was a bit more bitter and wry than it would have been before he left, he suspected as such from his own journal keeping. 

There were a number of things he must do and he knew he needed to apply himself to these tasks to recover himself, and an identity. In fact at first when standing in the ruins of Brennenburg, somehow surviving it all, he’d had a choice. To give up his self, to craft a new identity and let that man he’d been before fall to obscurity. If he had been acting merely on his own self interest perhaps he would have done just that. 

He had found something in the ruins of Brennenburg besides his journals and personal correspondence. Three cracked and fractured orbs and in them a promise, but what that promise was to be had yet to crystallize. But the truth of his future had been made clear with those inhuman devices in his hands, a new Daniel unmade and formed in new cloth would not have nearly enough resources nor the contacts to unravel the orbs’ secrets, not even with the scavenged research he had recovered from the depths of his own personal hell. He had not touched it again since his first glimpse of it, and had instead bundled it all together and sealed it with wax for a later date and a stronger presence of mind.

Finally starting again with new purpose he managed to get to the end of the river district this time, and even managed to make it onto a proper arrangement of streets. He knew he looked like a stranger and his fair skin burned every time someone glanced his way. What hadn’t been ruined in the collapse of the portal - and the damned castle- had been on his body and was torn and otherwise blood stained and thick with unknown ichor. What he wore now had been purchased or bartered for and was rustic and simple. A jacket, a tunic, a pair of slacks in a size too large for him, and boots- which were his only surviving article but had seen the wear of that long night of horrors and beyond and as such seemed to match the rest of his poor and work-man’s appearance.

He had to actually pay in advance to hire a carriage but it had been worth the humiliation to save himself from having to spend all day in a city he didn’t know, trying to find a house he couldn’t remember. Giving the carriage driver the address had been a stroke of genius on his part and he took the time to sit and settle, gathering himself. He had forgotten who he was, Daniel of Mayfair yes, but who was Daniel and where was Mayfair. He’d had to read through his own letters like a spy, deciphering details of a life someone else had lost. He didn’t know what his father’s name, but he knew enough of manners and the relationship he must have had with the man to know it was probably his way to just refer to the man as sir. 

They were estranged in some way, his father had not approved of Daniel leaving for the continent, nor his chosen profession, nor anything else about his son if Daniel’s journal was any real indication. He suspected that it was, and that the Daniel who had fled to Germany to try and save himself would have never gone back to his father’s home, would have never gone back to Mayfair if he could help it, but the Daniel who was returning now had a different prerogative on life. 

When the carriage halted at the row house it was at the back and Daniel didn’t fault the driver for his presumption, in fact it was probably best. He tipped the man, which surprised him Daniel could see, and the man stalled, seeing perhaps a source of revenue. “Govn’or you come round this way oft?”

“I confess I am not sure. I in fact might be unwelcome and will have to find lodgings elsewhere.” Daniel knew already what was coming, there was a gleam in the man’s eye where he sat above him, clearly they could make use of each other.

“I know a clean place, befitin’ a man a’yur stature.” If coin was had all sorts of doors could open, Daniel would be rotting in a cell in Germany if he hadn’t stolen a good deal of gold dinnerware from the former Baron. 

“Would you wait here for me? I shan’t be long I suspect, and if I do not require your services tonight I will pay you for the time you spent waiting.”

“Right sir, I’ll be waitin’ here just for you.” The man nodded in a responsible manner down at Daniel and settled in his seat as if to say neither god nor copper would drag him from his post. 

Leaving the carriage behind he took himself past the little gate into the back garden of the row house, and up unfamiliar steps to the back door where he raised his hand to knock but found himself transfixed. What if his father had moved, or passed away in his absence? If there had been a death that might be fortuitous, he merely needed to find a solicitor and see if he had any inheritance or if he’d been written out of the will. Thinking in this manner caused a rolling wave of nauseas guilt to shudder through him, profiting off death, how little had he changed? 

No, he would donate it all to charity if he had any, or use it to research the orbs.

But then what if his father was not at all happy to see him? 

Standing here, he realized, in front of a closed door and endless possibilities would do him no good and finally he put his shoulders back and rose his chin and rapped on the door hard enough to hurt his knuckles.

He did not have long to wait, the door opened and an elderly woman in house-uniform stood within it, speaking before the door had even finished opening the full breadth. “You’re late with the cuttings, Paul.” 

Daniel cleared his throat nervously and the elderly woman fixed her glasses and realized perhaps all of a sudden he was not ‘Paul’. The look of confusion was quickly replaced with a momentary worry, following shortly by disbelief, shock, and then to Daniel’s mixed relief and tension a look of absolute joy. “Danny!” She cried out and took him by the shoulders to look him over, her joy slowly replaced with concern just as Daniel’s relief was replaced with aprehension, he had no earthly idea who this woman was to him. 

“You’ve nothing to say to your dear old Frannie?” 

Frannie, it rang an empty hollow in the silence of his skull but the woman just gave him a squeeze and seemed to only just then completely take in the state of his dissaray, a look of gentle and perhaps motherly concern overcoming her. “What did they do to you, you look a fright. Oh we can’t have you see your father like this, come in, come in dear, it’s a good thing you came to this door dear, you’d of made a mess of things if you came in the front! Smart boy, always sharp as a whip my little Danny.” She bundled him in and he did not even need to explain himself, she spoke so quickly and seemed content to have a silent conversationalist as her partner. 

In half an hour Daniel had learned much about the household of Mr. Tremaine. He was a penny pincher who had slowly let go of his entire staff save the cook, Mrs. Fransiska Geralt the widow, who he could not reason himself to get rid of because the man could not or would not cook for himself. Daniel learned that he was still the apple of Frannie’s eye, and she’d known all along he’d come back and ask for forgivance and make up as dutiful sons were meant to do. He learned that Frannie was short sighted and not just visually but in her day to day reading of the air or understanding of others. She was a good intentioned woman who meant well and was raised in a different era. 

What she provided for Daniel that wasn’t pure information was a pair of clean clothing (his own old clothes she couldn’t bring herself to throw out that she’d been keeping in the attic,) a bath, and a ribbon for his hair from her sewing box when he refused to let her sheer it. Having made a quick braid of it he caught her looking at him in the mirror of the room she had called his old room, an unmistakable wetness to her gaze. With trembling hand she rose a kerchief to her face and blotted her eyes. “You’d braid Hazel’s hair just like that, oh Danny you miss her so, don’t you?”

He didn’t remember Hazel except he did, he did miss her, it was as intrinsically apart of him as the letter he’d read when he’d first awakened to this life, even when he couldn’t remember her name he remembered missing her. There was an emptiness in him that crossed pass the Damascus Rose, and he suspected that it was hollowed out of his very soul. He didn’t know he’d done this for her, but his hands had known the memory of the movements and it was indeed the best way to keep his hair from tumbling all around his face. 

“I do.” He whispered, finding his voice rough and disused, and allowed the elderly cook to take his hands and comfort him, or perhaps he was the one comforting her. 

When she had recovered she explained that his father was with his solicitor and wouldn’t return till dinner time, but she had some leftovers from yesterday and he was so pale and undernourished she’d set him up in the parlor to wait with a hearty meal. 

“I’ll need to tell my driver I’ll be needing him longer.”

This paused Frannie in her exuberant piling on of food to the luncheon tray. “You’re leaving again, but Danny you’ve only come home!”

“I am worried my welcome from my father will not be as generous as your own is all, I think it’s best to be prepared.”

This gave Frannie pause and a look came upon her that made Daniel temporarily reconsider the amount that the woman was witness to. “You’ve grown up so much. Yes, you’re probably right dear. As a man you don’t want to be under his thumb all the time, it’s not befitting for starting a family either.”

This sudden turn of subject sent a sharp shudder of revulsion through Daniel and he almost found himself physically ill, only saved by the fact that his nerves had prohibited him from taking breakfast on the ship so there was nothing in his belly to come back up. A woman crying, a child dying, and Daniel became quite pale and forced a thin smile. “No, it might be best if I kept my driver on retainer.” 

Going out into the back yard he took great gulpfuls of air, clutching the iron railing leading down the back stairwell. His whole body was hot and cold all at once and he felt as if he was going to sweat through his new (or old) shirt. How visceral and thick his reaction was, a memory that haunted him, too close it had come to the Damascus Rose’ gentle ministrations. He wished it worked the other way ‘round, that the further things were easier to recall and that he could forget the way that little girl had screamed, forget the way the Baron’s gentle tenor ran down his spine, forget that castle entirely. 

But that was his punishment, his burden. To remember what crimes the man who had come before had wrought upon humanity. 

He found himself again in the garden, his face wet with tears he didn’t remember shedding, collapsed against the railing. He considered momentarily that this had been a bad idea, that coming home - for any definition of the word - had been a very bad idea indeed. He didn’t belong here and his self preservation warred with a sense of duty and focus. He was here for a reason he had to take hold of himself, he had to, there was nothing else but to do it. 

He was not surprised that the carriage driver seemed out of breath when he came out of the gate, he’d thought perhaps someone had been watching him have his breakdown. The man still looked a little surprised to see him up close, “Gov’nor you clean up mighty fine indeed!” 

Daniel nodded uncommittedly, “I’ll have need of your services longer. I’ll give you coin enough to drive round and get yourself supper, and then come wait for me again, I’ll not be staying the night.” 

“Your welcome not warm, that’s a pity that.”

Daniel didn’t dignify the question or pity with a response and instead handed over a suitable amount of coin.

When he came back up to the house Frannie was waiting for him right inside the door, her motherly smile back in place, “I’ve set the tray up in the parlor and stoked the fire up ver’ nice for you dear.” 

“Thank you Frannie. Would you have the time in your schedule to sit with me and tell me what has happened since I’ve been gone?” Asking in such a polite way and intrusting her with something like this, an important role clearly, seemed to brighten the woman up significantly.

“Of course Danny! I’ll take my sewing along with me and we’ll have a nice long chat.” 

It was in this way that Daniel passed the next two hours learning little if nothing at all of use but a lot about the social goings on of Mayfair, London’s, elite and their servants. Not that his father could consider himself elite, that was something else Daniel had learned. The staff hadn’t been relieved merely as an act of spendthrift, but it seemed that the master of the house was under some financial strain, or some other stigma that kept him from traveling in higher circles than he was previously afforded. 

“But you won’t have a problem being invited to gatherings love, not with all the stories you have to tell about your travels!” 

Her words caused an amount of hilarity in Daniel that nearly had him choking on his tea and he had to set his cup down for he was trembling with restrained laughter. He had no stories to tell that would be fit for polite company, nor ill. His stories were horror, things you only whispered on rainy nights under the promise that they could not have possibly happened in reality. Thick flesh formations that pulsated and grew and stretched reaching, bloody hands and dark terrible dungeons filled with the tools of a madman, and a horror beyond horrors - an elderly man who was not a man at all but a monster, and the worst of it all, the longing deep in Daniel’s soul, a gap just as empty as the one Hazel had left behind, that was shaped just like something that had never been human to begin with. He suspected that made him inhuman too now.

“So many stories you must have, tell me about Algeria!” Frannie’s words cut through his momentary insanity and brought him back to himself and back out of his mirth. 

He coudldn’t tell her the most important parts, couldn’t tell her about the tomb, the suffocating closeness, the hours he felt he spent down there in the tight dark. He couldn’t tell her so much, but he could pick and chose what he had recovered from his journal.

“It was oppressively hot and I fainted so Herbert made the men carry me in a litter sometimes, and bought the lady’s parasols and pressed me to use them. It was much cooler in the tombs but stifling and tight.”

Frannie put her hand to her chest, “Oh you’re too tender for that kind of work Daniel, I hope that you might settle back here and do something respectable like teach.”

“I think I liked it, even if it was hard.” Truthfully Daniel wasn’t sure, his writing had a quality to it that hinted at wry amusement even when he was complaining about something. He knew his former self had a fondness for his professor, enough that they were both on first name basis, something not so common. He suspected that Herbert had been a surrogate father for Before-Daniel. 

“Well you’re home now and I’m certain you’ll find a suitable position.” Frannie knew nothing of his flight from London after Herbert had sent him home, she knew nothing of the deaths the orb’s protector had inflicted in Daniel’s wake. He suspected that any probing on his part in academic circles would be met by skepticism and concern, especially since he was the only survivor of the Algeria exhibition. Everyone would have questions and he would have very little answers, not to mention a lack of understanding on his own focus of study. 

For the years Daniel spent in scholarly pursuits he had absolutely nothing to show of it - he had the Baron’s notes and his own, he had a few musty books, and he had letters from a dead man to other dead men. He also could not promise he would even stay in London but he kept this to himself, Frannie was thus far an ally and source of ready information. 

She was asking him about the transportation in the continent when the sound of the front door opening cut Daniel to the quick, breathe, breathe. He focused and a sense of steadiness passed within him, that he was not who he once was and the fear that man had was not his own. He was stronger than this, he was stronger than the scars that tracked a body he had not asked for but been handed. He remembered his father’s abuse, or he remembered the abuse of an older man and his own terror at being locked in the dark, cutting his hands on broken glass and the scent of lantern oil so strong he could taste it on his tongue even now.

The spell broke as the other man entered the parlor, clearly meaning to pass through. Daniel did not know him, and so he took him in as a stranger. Greying hair, a bushy mustache, thick bones and a paunch about his middle that showed wealth and how well he fed. His clothing was neat and his body hearty - all Daniel needed to know of his personality he could read in the sour set of his mouth, he was not an agreeably man on the best of days and this was clearly not the best of what he’d lived. 

When the man noticed Daniel a look of confusion warred with apathy before settling on stunned shock and remained there. “Daniel.” His rough voice sounded raw.

“Sir.” Daniel didn’t know his name and the disgust at the hollow word father forming in his mouth prohibited him from saying much else. 

“Get... get OUT!” He shouted suddenly, flinging his leather attache case at Daniel who only managed to avoid it last minute. “YOU WON’T HAVE A PENNY FROM ME, YOU DISOBEDIENT BEGGAR.”

Frannie was standing and trying to appease the master of the house, and keep Daniel from leaving, but Daniel’s father was having none of it.

Nothing in Daniel’s own journal or his letters had expressed that Daniel was dependent on his father, in fact there was some intimation that Daniel had money of his own and had invested it, he was hoping to locate that, but found he would not be getting assistance here. He stood sharply and something in the way he moved, something in his eyes he had no control over stopped his father and Frannie short. 

“I can see I am unwelcome, much as I had suspected. I will take my leave.” He knew by the way that they looked at him that he was getting it wrong, that his portrayal was flawed, but he couldn’t bring himself to grovel or rage. He was tired from travel and if all he got from this meeting was a set of clothing more befitting a scholar he was still better off than he’d been before. 

There was a fluster of voices behind him but Daniel had strode past the older man, his scuffed well-traveled boots clicking with a finality on the wooden floorboards of the entry hall, and he mused that this was the second time Daniel would leave and never return. But not even his wandering thoughts and brittle mind put him off guard enough not to sense the hand grasping at him, for too long had he been chased by nightmares made flesh, and he nearly struck Daniel of Mayfair’s father in the face before he caught himself and grasped the man’s wrist roughly before that hand could close around his arm. 

He was slender yes and maybe underfed but he had been honed by deep places, by months of gruesome work, and his body was young and strong. He had failed to kill the Baron or he would have failed if he’d set out to do that to begin with, but he was through with killing, and he was through with cruelty. 

“You would do best not to put hands upon me, sir.” Daniel spoke with measured calm, and rose his gaze carefully to meet and hold the shocked stare of the man who had once been father. 

“You are not my son.” There, under the surface, fear and disbelief. 

“There you are right. You disowned me, did you not?”

“Who are you, what are you?” 

Daniel could no more answer that now than he could when he woke up with nothing more than Daniel of Mayfair as a signature. When had that man chosen to drop his surname, was is the first time he’d left this house never to return? Was it before that? Daniel of Mayfair was all that remained. 

Making a hasty apology to Frannie he took his leave, out the front door, and bit down the bile of guilt when the door slammed shut behind him. 

The coachman was making no show this time that he’d not been watching and peeping, when Daniel came around the house the man was still leaning against the gate and jumped a bit to see him. “Did you sup well?” Daniel asked, conversationally, his nerves spiked from the altercation, when he moved to open the gate his hands were trembling so that he made no headway with it thrice before the coachman held it open for him hastily, and then opened the carriage for him too. Daniel managed to make it in without the man’s assistance, although that was offered too. 

“Supped right well Gov’nor.” 

Snapping Daniel turned sharply on the man, “Stop calling me that, stop.”

It was either the wrong set of his eyes or the waver in his voice but the man actually looked scared of him for a moment and Daniel felt the guilt surge again. “Well. It’s only, you haven’t given me yer name good sir.”

Sir, and Governor, and Master- all he had was Daniel and it wouldn’t do if he was to retain this man as his driver. He looked at the house again helplessly, only then noticing the plaque beside the delivery door. “Tremaine.” Daniel told him, and the name was empty syllables on his lips but so was much of what belonged to Before-Daniel.

“Ver’ good Mr. Tremaine, will y’be needing a bit of nosh before I take you to that boarding house?” 

Daniel didn’t think he could eat without making himself sick and he shook his head, shutting himself up in the dark of the carriage and remaining uncommunicative the whole journey across town. Perhaps it was the money he’d paid the man, or some pity he held to see Daniel’s state and implied ill welcome, but he kept up a conversation with himself for Daniel’s sake and didn’t pry or wheedle more time out of him. 

The boarding house was clean as promised and the coachman held the door open for him before shifting in closer to him. "Lucy this is my friend Mr. Tremaine, and you're to give him yer best room." He announced to the landlady before leaning in to lower his voice and address Daniel once more, “You have any problem with anyone you just ask the clerk for Old Lenny, that’s me, and I’ll take care of them for you Mr. Tremaine. Will y’be needing a driver tomorrow?”

Daniel knew that the man was just securing future employment but he couldn’t help but be thankful for it. Money could buy loyalty, it certainly had between the Baron and his jailors - before they too had expended their usefulness in life and had bent to the inhuman man’s unholy purposes. After the reception at the Tremaine house he found himself adrift. "I will, thank you Lenny. I have a steamer trunk clearing customs tomorrow no doubt, and I will need to go around and fetch it."

"Certainly Mr. Tremaine."

Daniel smiled wryly at the foreign title and wondered how long it might be before he could ask the man to drop honorifics, if he did indeed keep him around. So far there had been nothing creeping, nothing hunting him, but well he remembered the castle and that great Shadow, it would do no one good to get too close to him if that thing still lived and looked for those who meant to use the orbs. It would probably be too good to be true that the thing was dashed to bits by the castle's destruction, of which it had brought on. Death by it's own hunger and frustration, and certainly Daniel should have been eaten up by that thing's fury too, and had disembodied voices to thank for not being fuel to some otherwordly guardian. He'd had it up to here with disembodied voices and empty promises. 

"Would you do me one thing in parting and find me some of the most foreign food you may? I have a taste for exotic fare, lots of spices if you can manage it." 

Lenny looked to him and seemed to remember the state of his dress before Frannie had gotten ahold of him, and also where he'd first picked Daniel up from. "If I may say it, Mr. Tremaine, you're an odd sort, you wan for me t'go round to the immigrants then?" 

"Yes, I mean for you to do that. Tip them well and ask them for mint tea and pay for the carafe." Daniel presented more coins, and moved his body to prevent the landlady standing behind her desk-cage to see the flash. 

Lenny nodded obediently and put the money away quickly before squaring his shoulders back and tilting his chin up. "I'll be sure to come back right-way and give you your sup Mr. Tremaine."

When Lenny had stomped out with the single-minded focus of a soldier and probably the same amount of misgivings toward unknown terrains, Daniel turned back to the landlady, "Lucy? Please that feels much too disrespectful for a woman of your stature." 

His intended flattery worked just as he'd hoped and the landlady tittered a laugh, her thick body heaving upward from her chair, and she lifted her ample bossom to lay on the edge of the desk that served as the bottom of her little cage. In lower houses there would be some manner of metal fencing or other structure to keep her safe from the rabble, but here it had never been put up. Clean and of a middling sort, Lenny had taken Daniel someplace obscure and yet safe. "You're a sweet lad to be sure, you can call me Mrs. Forrestson, looking for a bit of flesh?" 

Daniel blanched, and flinched back, feeling again a sort of queasy uneasiness. "No, no I'm not that sort of patron."

Lucy looked a bit surprised to hear this and no doubt with the manner of his current dress he didn't appear at all to be the kind of patron she had expected. "We're ver quiet and good at secrets and keep our rooms and ladies clean." She told him with the upmost respectability, and Daniel knew of course that any boarding house probably had some manner of trade happening within it, and he was clearly not an undercover detective but it still set his skin crawling to think of paying someone to touch him, or in fact honestly anyone touching him at all.

"I have no doubt of the cleanliness of your establishment or... or anything else, but I really am only here for a room lent to me an undeterminent amount of time, sometimes meals, and privacy. Also if at all possible I'd like a fireplace, any sort would do if you have any rooms with such."

Lucy Forrestson bit her plush lip and took the lay of him better and Daniel stiffened under the scrutiny. "I know Lenny wouldn't bring a scoundrel in. So you've got money? It'll be extra for a room with a fireplace, all I've got it the one and it's a half-kitchen in there, would that be fitting you Mr. Tremaine?"

"Fit me just fine Mrs. Forrestson." He carefully measured the right amount to pay a week and put it into her ink-stained hand. After scribbling something that was probably only partly English on her number sheet she took a key down from the wall behind her and handed it through to him, "It's the fifth room on the second floor, I'll have the clerk show you up." 

"No, no that's fine, I can make my way, just send Lenny up when he returns. Thank you Mrs. Forrestson."

She watched him with a subdued curiosity until he had turned up the stairs and lost the track of her gaze, at which point he finally managed to deflate some and let his spine curve in a more natural way, letting out a shaky breath. She would no doubt pry into his business if he wasn't careful and was probably taking a cut of the illegal activities being carried on under her roof. At least he would likely not need to encode his notes more than he already did, it was not likely with the scratch she kept her notations in that she could read much, let alone a mixture of different languages such as Daniel kept. 

Bracing himself against the rough wooden panneled walls he made his way up the stairs and then navigated himself to the room his key opened. It was dark, with two wide windows that looked out on brick walls perhaps six inches space between them, leaving him to wonder if the windows had been a joke or if they'd been there when the building next to the boarding house had been put up, either way they were now useless, and yet he still felt intimately compelled to cover them. 

Trembling hands slipped the tinder box from his pocket and he lit a match up and held it aloft, a deep emptiness within him welling at the missing weight that surely should have been held aloft in the stead of this tiny light. His single solace and protector, and his greatest weakness at times, that lantern had come to feel like an extension of him and awaking to the fractured glass and bent metal had been felt all the way to his bones for the emptiness it inspired within him. He should have let Mrs. Forrestson send him up with the clerk afterall, then he'd at least have a lantern, but casting around he found an oil lamp affixed to the wall near the door and he set his match there.

The floor must have been the same as the original building for it had a well-worked smoothness that the paneling in the hall had lacked, as well as a deeper shade of varnish. The walls were papered with a deep green-almost black and set with a wooden panneled wainscot that matched the floorboards. The paper was unpatterned and unpeeling and that was what remained most important to Daniel. Shoved up against the back wall was a brick enclosed stove-set and chimney, good enough to make dinner on, or in Daniel's case, boil water for tea, heat up his meals, and warm himself. He went there before he took to the second oil lamp near what looked to be the unadorned shape of a simple bed and took to lighting up the stove and stoking it before his match could finally burn to the quick. 

When he'd managed to find enough wood without damp set in it and had a good fire going in the little open hearth between the stoves he set himself to looking at the rest of the room. It was larger than he'd thought it had been when he first entered it, odd since it looked not nearly that big from the hallway outside, but it would fit him just fine with the rent provided. Alongside the small stoves and the open fireplace were an assortment of cooking utensils hanging from a wooden strip set into the brick protector of the kitchen area, a shelf of cut wood right above the upper edge of the cooking space, the bed which was as simple and lacking of personality as he'd assumed, and a simple rough-built desk set up near the door. He knew already if he planned to stay here any duration he would need more tables and at least one bookshelf to work with, he'd need to talk to Mrs. Forrestson in the next few days and gauge her interest and also disinterest. It would do him no good to have a landlady that was too interested in his affairs. 

There was no chair in the room and the bed was too far from the fireplace which had only been recently lit enough that it's warmth wouldn't yet reach that side of the room so instead Daniel took himself down to the floor before the tiles of the fireplace hearth, kneeling with his feet tucked beneath him. As he settled so too did the events of the day on his bones, and weighed him down until his shoulders were slumped and his chin nearly tucked against his chest. His hands he pressed to the worn floorboards and closing his eyes he took a few steadying breaths before it all broke in him and the waves rose up again. His cheeks were hot and wet with tears and they were deep in his lungs, paining him to breathe as he took in gasping breaths - which then caused him to begin coughing. 

The coughing wasn't new, he'd had one since the castle and had been blaming it on the damp and dust he'd woken within. So far he'd managed to contain it but with the release of his emotions so too seemed to exasperate the cough. It wasn't until he'd managed to stop crying and had nearly fallen out on the floor before the fire that his lungs finally seemed to settle again and stop plaguing him. But that bout had awakened in him some deep reminder, some hint of something deeper and forgotten, he sounded like something or someone, and he didn't remember them, no doubt thanks to the Damascus Rose, but they were there, waiting to be unraveled from the destroyed remnants of his memory. 

What felt like only minutes since he'd sat down was certainly longer as no sooner did he finally control his coughing did a rap come at the door. He was not surprised to see Lenny there, with a bundled collection of dinnerware and a great and gorgeous glass carafe. "Now now messir Tremaine just let me put it down, it's all too heavy for you." Lenny bustled past him only to see the lack of tables and seating, so he put the collection out on the desk up against the wall and then wiped his hands upon his slacks. "I'll fetch you a table and chair."

"You needn't bother yourself Lenny, I'll be quite fine with the provided furniture, I've a plan to purchase some pieces myself actually, should I end up staying here over-long." 

Nodding Lenny went to stand in the door nervously, casting his eyes around the room, to the collected food, and then back to Daniel himself. "Take care of the drafts Mr. Tremaine, and you'll find me waitin' for your patronage on the morrow."

With the door shut and himself alone once more in the room Daniel moved to unravel the paper packages and covered contents of the little wooden crate Lenny had brought in, but froze in some manner of shock at the drying brown-red smears on the palm of his hands. He bit down a cry of fear and revulsion, the blood taking him, dragging him kicking and screaming to another time, another Daniel, with blood on his pale hands. 

_ "Have I done well my friend? Have I kept it at bay another night?"  _

_ Alexander's mismatched eyes took him in with a measure of horror and something sharper and brighter, before they settled on the familiar exasperation that Daniel so regretted seeing. "You have made a mess of yourself, Daniel. And the prisoner." Nudging the broken body on the floor with his foot Alexander sneered when the corpses entrails spilled out of the jagged mouth torn into the center of him as the body slid over. "But I believe it's been appeased, come along with me, while you look beautiful in red, it is best we get you cleaned up." _

Daniel is standing in the middle of London, and a dead man's madness is reaching for him still. He takes himself to the door with a speed that borders on violence and drags his hands along the door frame, leaving that sticky trail in the wake of their passage. It's his own blood, no other's, he didn't spill some poor innocent's blood, but it would do as well and he made a ward of his own loss. "Stay out there, stay out there." He wasn't sure what or who he was talking to. 

Picking a splinter out of his hand under the gas lamp his turning stomach settled again and began to turn in another manner at the heady scent of thick spices. Taking his jacket off and laying it over the bed he picked up his task once more, unpacking the food that he'd sent Lenny to fetch him. There was a cracked platter filled with a heaping helping of rice and a thick orange-red slurry of meat drippings and spice set in a mixture of carrot and potato. It was probably Arabic or Indian - albeit he doubted Lenny would know the difference and had merely taken himself to the first establishment that was run by a foreigner. There was a covered plate with three pieces of naan upon it to soak up the drippings of the supper as well as the beautiful carafe of mint tea. He had developed a taste for it as before-Daniel, from where he was not certain, but he could recall it and was thankful to see it here. Taking in a deep breath of the tea it settled the ache in his chest and the burn of his lungs. 

Maybe it was Algeria where he'd first encountered it, occupied as it was by the French and with so far flung culinary influences. The Arabs and Turks had similar drinks, he thought he could recall, and then with a wry laugh he set the carafe down, for what could he recall at all? Nothing much, and what he did might be lies or half-truths. He was probably recounting some passage from before-Daniel's journal. 

Along with the carafe the owners of the establishment had packed away a little teacup of similar design to the carafe, possibly part of a larger set. He poured himself a cup of the tea and brought it close to his lips. His fingertips and the glass were cold against his skin but the tea was lukewarm - fresh - and heavily sweetened. He closed his eyes tight and as the sight of blood had transported him so did the taste of the tea. The sounds of a busy market outside and yet inside, inside his head, the cool shade of the restaurant and the miserable heat outside, a bead of sweat that traveled down the back of his neck and then tracked the path of his spine until Herbert's hand clapped upon his back and it was gone- and the memory was gone too, leaving him alone with bitter-mint and syrup-sweet lingering on his tongue. 

He set the cup down and tucked into his dinner, standing by the oil lamp and the desk, watching the bricks outside the window dance with the flicker of his shadow refracted under lamp light. "I am home now," he spoke to himself and to the shadows - and in the shadows he spoke to men who couldn't hear him, "I did not think I would make it here, and you didn't either I suppose. The Shadow didn't take me, I escaped it, and I escaped that castle and everything it led me to. I don't remember much but every day small things come back to me, whether I want them to or not. I suppose it's better that way, all at once and I might go as mad as he was at the end of it. I'm sure the Baron would have rather he took his life the traditional way, or-" he shook his head, "No, that's not right either. He did mourn us, didn't he, in his way." 

Daniel sighed and put his half-eaten dinner down and took himself back to the hearth before the fire, setting the carafe and cup down in front of himself on the tile. "Tomorrow I will go to the address the Baron sent his reply to Daniel to, and see where it was he lived before." He poured himself another glass of tea. "Where it was we lived before, eh Danny?" Glancing at the bed he found himself too tired to pull himself up again and instead he flopped sideways, watching the flicker of the flames, and settled himself on the hard floor, curled up on his side much as he'd woken in the cell when that creature had captured him in the castle.

"Where we were before." He whispered again and closed his eyes, focusing solely on the ache in his chest, the cold floor, and the heat of the fire upon his skin. "Where are we?"


	2. Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you're still here? hot damn welcome to the shit show then friend!

He was stiff after half a night on the floorboards and half a night in the unforgiving bed he'd crawled himself to when he'd woken in the middle of the night. It was sometime after the bread had begun to bake but before dawn that he made his way downstairs. Mrs. Forrestson was gone from her post but a young man of fifteen or so was sitting at a chair outside of it, looking bored but he brightened up when he noticed someone coming down the stairs. 

"We wont have breakfast for another two hours, sir." 

"That is fine lad, I am going to go take a walk, can you direct me to the nearest church? And when you see the Landlady let her know I won't need my room cleaned today, that is if it's daily at all."

"Are you sure sir, the bugs get in." 

"Not after one night, I'm quite fine."

"If you're certain then sir, the nearest church is down on church street." The young man didn't seem to see the amusement in that, so Daniel kept his smile to himself and bid him goodbye. 

The early morning air was thick in his lungs and lacked the purity of the mountain air at Castle Brennenburg, nor the beautifullly crisp sea air of the journey back to London. But it was a sight better than the stuffy atmosphere of the boarding house with its unopenable windows. The streets were not empty, even in the darkness, with various people rushing to work or doing their chores to open up shops and storehouses. He had no idea where church street was, and he had no idea in fact where he himself was. Which was just fine for once, it felt good to have the cold air on his fevered skin and the ache in his bones stretched out by a leisurely stroll. 

When he did find a church it wasn't one on a Church Street, but as dawn had not yet broken it suited his needs. Connected to the church was a small graveyard and he took himself between the tombs and then to the very back wall tucked between great thick trees. The ground was wet with dew beneath his boots and the wall of the graveyard was cold against his palm when he braced himself there. "This is what I've got for you, it's not much but it's all I can do. I took you back to London as you no doubt would have liked." From the inside of his coat he pulled a single letter on water-stained paper, smoothing it out he saw the blood stains, the drops of Damascus Rose on the edges and his own signature. "Well Daniel Tremaine, I failed much of what you tasked me to do. Alexander of Brennenburg has gone home, we did not redeem ourselves, and much of who you were has been dissolved by time or undone by my own actions." 

He knelt down on the soft earth and unrooted it with the hands he'd stained with blood the night before, the letter resting on his lap. "I suppose I should be careful not to talk to myself outloud over much now? There are asylums and holes where they put people like us now. Like me." But it was quiet and lonely in this place of death. He'd never wondered where it was the Baron had put the dead, the ones who hadn't been made into servants to chase him. He wondered if before-Daniel had, but even as the thought formed he dismissed it, knowing the answer - no he hadn't, too concerned with his own survival and dwindling sanity. "There is a finality in burial, but you only ever dug up secrets. I'll be burying these if it pleases you all the same." He could have burned the letter, and maybe he should have but his words held weight, burying had a certain finality of symbolism. He rolled the letter up into a tube and pressed it down into the hollow of earth he had made. 

Burying it he thought it was likely he should say a prayer but as he knew before-Daniel did not think of burial rites, neither did he know many prayers. No doubt he'd been dragged every sunday to some similar church as the one that shadowed the graveyard but nothing in his letters or journal lent one to the understanding that he was religious in the slightest. Even his understanding of the orbs and through that the understanding Daniel now had of all the events, were ones of preternatural and not so much the spiritual. There were other planes of existence alongside their own and gateways that led between them. The broken traveler's locket that had left Alexander of Brennenburg stranded. The orbs that once mended and powered had enabled the doorway. There were many doors and Daniel knew none of them had much of anything to do with the Lord. There had been no God with him in that castle certainly and some would even say that he had taken shelter in the Devil's very arms. 

Gritting his teeth and shoving the earth back over the letter, burying it, away from sight, away - he could hear his own cowardice in the ringing of his ears. Certainly yes, he'd sought comfort but it had all been lies. There was a bitterness in him at his own stupidity and naivety, his own cowardice. Better off dead and buried, and there the letter would remain, as would it's last requests, a Will unfulfilled. "You should have told me we loved him." He stomped down upon the earth, biting back fury and hot tears. "Maybe then it wouldn't have come as such a surprise to me, maybe then I could have done it." 

He fled the graveyard, brushing dirty hands off on his clothing and it wasn't until he'd returned to the boarding house that he stopped fretting over them, as if there were still traces of dirt or blood upon them. 

The young man was gone and back at her post was Mrs. Forrestson who looked up at him from her book-keeping. "Hello Mr. Tremaine and a good morning to you, you've been out and about already I see. Our Lenny won't be up for another hour or two at the least, he was up late drinking through some of that coin you paid him." She smiled benevolently and then motioned down the hallway behind him, opposite the stairs. "At the end there is the dining room, you'll find breakfast there sat at the long table, that's how we take it here if it's fine by you. Or I could have the clerk carry you up a tray."

"I will take it at the table, that suits me this morning. I would like for a lantern, just a simple lantern not another gas lamp, and a pitcher and basin be brought up to my room though."

"You've found the outhouse and well out back then?" When he nodded she continued, "Lenny said you were without a table or chair to eat on, but said you'd be askin' me if you were to stay if you might fill it with yer own furniture, that's fine by me and will gladly loan ye a strong arm or two for movin' it up if you do intend to stay." 

Daniel could not really fault Lenny for his loose lips, it was no doubt where he'd procured the booze he'd pickled himself with last night and as such Mrs. Forrestson probably unraveled the whole day out of him. He would not be letting slip dangerous secrets anyway. 

"Thank you Mrs. Forrestson, my business over the next few days will give me a better idea on whether or not my stay here will be less temporary. Do you think Lenny will be awake by the time I've finished breaking my fast and washing up?"

"You have such'a peculiarly nice way a'talking Mr. Tremaine, if you don't mind me sayin' I quite like to listen t'you. If Lenny ain't up by then I've means of wakin' him for you, don't you worry your pretty head not one bit."

Taking his leave of her he moved down the quiet hallway, following the soft sound of voices midway down it he came onto an old dining room which had probably been in the original floor plans of whatever this building had been before it had become a boarding house. Much as the flooring in his room was most definitely the original so was the flooring here and it held a depth of time and a softness beneath the soles of his boots, a feeling of welcome infusing him oddly, as if he belonged here in this moment. At a long table that was most likely from a century previous and mended on and on, tended carefully, sat a Jewish man with his head covering and another Englishman. Set out along the surface were a number of covered platters, standard morning fare for the lower-middle class. 

“Good morning.” The Englishman nodded over his plate of fried potato scraps and cut vegetables, while the Jewish man finished up his cold bread and preserves. “I’ve a joke for you Hyam.” He continued, clearly addressing the Jewish man whose shoulders went up in a fashion of self defense, Daniel took a better look at the speaker and found he did not much like the cruel set of the man’s lips beneath his bushy mustache or the glint in his dark brown eyes. While his hands had no doubt done far more cruelty to others, this was a man who delighted in the discomfort of others. 

“Your jokes are not very funny, Mr. Allens. Good morning,” Hyam if he was right, the Jewish man, greeted Daniel and offered him the chair beside him, “Please sit.”

“A Jew, a Irishman, and an Englishman walk into a bar-“ Allens began in a ribald manner and Daniel scraped the chair along the floor hard enough to shriek the wood together, stunning the man to silence. 

He smiled delicately and inclined his head toward Allens, “Two Englishmen and a Jewish man walk into a bar.” He challenged, with perfect diction and pushed the messy fall of his hair behind him. He knew it had once been a deep brown but something in it had changed just as he suspected his blood had, lightening and brightening till it was a striking auburn-copper. Frannie was colour-blind, and wouldn’t have been able to tell, but he wondered now if that had compounded the horror Tremaine the senior had felt at the sight of him. “Good morning, Allens? Hyam? Might I have a last name, it feels very disrespectful to refer to a man so much my senior with his first name.” Perhaps he was snapping his consonants a bit too abruptly to pry the bar further between himself and Allens, but it felt good to see the man wilt with the evidence of his social faux pas. Daniel was above him in every way it mattered to a man like Allens. 

“Hyam Singer, and that is Bill Allens. You must have joined us yesterday, sir.” Mr. Singer introduced himself and the now silent Allens. “You are a learned man?”

“Are you a scholar too Mr. Singer? I am a student of the histories, Daniel Tremaine.” He didn’t ask how Singer had known he was interested in the academic fields, it was probably evident in the clothing Daniel wore and the clip of his speech, Cambridge or Oxford, when Daniel wanted to he reeked of it - one of the only gifts he could readily summon forth from before-Daniel’s mannerisms and journal entries. While he introduced himself he spread preserves on a piece of cold bread and then broke his fast, only noticing how painful the turn in his empty belly was when he’d swallowed the first hard lump of stale bread. 

“A scholar of Holy works, but I have many interests. Do you work here in London Mr. Tremaine?”

Allens seemed to recover himself after a few bites and looked to be put out that the conversation had moved on without him and his unwanted input, or that Daniel had taken away a ready source of entertainment for him, so he inserted himself back into the thick of it, “I’d wager Tremaine there hasn’t worked a day in his life, not fitting for someone as well spoken as yourself now is it? Or are you putting on airs?”

“You must forgive Allens. He is in a state of repose here, as his wife has removed him from her graces and the house.” Singer inclined his covered head toward Daniel as if sharing a joke with him. Before Allens could have an outburst of any kind he turned a pitying look upon the man, “To which no doubt she will soon allow him entry, as a wife will miss her husband.” 

“Thank you Hyam, Jullie she’s just very headstrong you know.” Allens for half a moment was almost a sympathetic figure until he tapped the table and turned his attention back to Daniel. “I work at a legal office, see your type come in all the time, demanding their inheritance.”

“I am not in need of inheritance, and as to your question, yes Mr. Singer I do in fact work here in London. I am an archaeologist, and have just returned from an excavation.” It wasn’t a lie and so Daniel did not feel so much guilt, he’d certainly done some matter of excavation to salvage what he could from the ruins of Brennenburg castle. “I am back here in London to piece together what I can of the artifacts I recovered.” 

How Singer’s face did light up to hear that, and Daniel found himself liking the man more and more, “Where was it you traveled?” Even Allens looked to be interested in the answer to Singer’s question and after taking another bite of his breakfast Daniel obliged them. 

“Algeria first, then a very small town on the far reaches of Germany, from there I took a odd and rambling return journey to England.” He left out much of the back and forth. 

“Now don’t make a stuffed bird laugh, you mean to tell me you’ve been all the way to Africa, boyyo?” Allens slapped his hand against the table which shook his tin-cup of coffee precariously. “Pull the other one.”

Daniel racked his brain the best he could, it was as it had always been, spite and fury drove him to extents he would not have been able to reach otherwise, summoning forth the best Arabic he could, he then called Allens an idiot in a language he could not possible understand. 

Allens looked dumbfounded, “What was that?”

“Arabic, I can also speak Berber and German, as well as some Russian. Latin of course, though does not everyone know a little bit of Latin?” 

Singer laughed softly, “You are very well learned Mr. Tremaine. Might I have your assistance and expertise in something at a later date, that is if you intend on staying here in this home with us much longer.”

Daniel nodded, finishing up his bread he found himself without the stomach to try the fried up peelings or the thick coffee. “I am gladly at your service Mr. Singer.” Before he could excuse himself from the table there was the squeak of floorboards announcing another arrival and turning his head he noticed Lenny lumbering in, looking only half awake. He was wearing much the same as yesterday - simple work clothing - but the neckerchief that had been knotted at his throat the day before had been replaced with a jaunty green one. “Good morning Lenny.”

The man gave him a half-salute and took a seat across from him, leaving one chair of gap between himself and Allens. “Mornin’ Mr. Tremaine, how soon will you be needin’ my services?” 

“Please take your time, I have to wash up again and make myself more presentable before we depart.” When Lenny fell to his breakfast with Daniel’s dismissal he then made his parting comments, again promising Mr. Singer to keep in touch with him as to his historical question. It wasn’t until he’d hit the stairwell up to the second floor that he realized in the coming daylight the gas lamps had been ducked and that the stretch between himself and his room was plunged in the thickest black. Before he could even council himself to breathe he’d begun to hyperventilate and his vision blurred. Striking his hand out he barely caught himself before he could fall face-first onto the upper ledge of the stairwell and dragging his hand down roughly he felt the rough hewn boards of the newer part of the structure splinter into his hand and scrape it open. With that burst of pain came clarity an he gasped in breath, and as he did so the most peculiar thing happened. The sconces all up the stairwell and all down the hall flared high to life, as if the gas put in them had been turned up most dangerously, before they leveled out to the standard dim lamp light that was their usual. 

Panting in a few breaths, Daniel held his torn hand to his chest, cupped with his other, and looked at the lamp nearest him, and then to the rest of them. Shaking like a leaf he took himself up the rest of the stairs and then put himself into the dim light of his personal room. The fire, which had not been stoked since he had set it the night before, remained burning - as if what fueled it was not just wood. He sat down before it, still holding his abused hand, and stared into the flame till he could breathe clearly and see without his vision blackening at the edges.

He had done something in the hallway, he had made the lights go on, he wasn’t sure how he’d done it but he had. He knew that it had perhaps been powered by the injury, and he could not help but to recall the studies on Vitae, on the power that could be found in the suffering of the mortal coil. Certainly this was another form of that and while he didn’t believe in magic, nor curses, or the work of witches, there was no denying that what had happened in the stairwell and hall had been preternatural in some way. He needed their notes, all of them, on vitae and the ones he had made and scrounged up about what the Baron had been. He needed to know what he had become, and he could not wait for them to arrive once freed from customs. 

He was still picking the splintered wood from his palm when he managed to come back down over an hour later. When Lenny nearly knocked over his chair to stand at attention, and had clearly been dozing off in the main hall, Daniel felt a good deal of guilt and finally shoved his hands into the pockets of his traveling coat. “Apologies Lenny, it took me some time to get my hair tamed without a comb” He’d merely raked his fingers through it and braided it again but with the short-crop of Lenny’s hair he doubted the man knew the difference if he was unwed. 

Eschewing assistance into the carriage again he handed Lenny a torn scrap of paper, “This is the address I need to go to. I wrote it in plain script.” He knew by estimate that the carriage driver knew numbers and the lay of the city but if the man could truly read he was not sure. He was given his answer when Lenny took in the paper and stared at it for some time, his mouth silently forming the letters before Daniel took pity on him. “Venus Street, uptown.” 

Lenny nodded, “Never been that way, but I knew you’d be needin’ to go farther abroad, I cleaned the old girl up nice for you.” He patted the side of the carriage and Daniel felt a little bit of guilt because he could honestly not see the difference. 

“Thank you Lenny, I am not sure what it is I am looking for there so you may need to make a few passes of the block once we arrive.” He settled himself inside and only then did he take his hands from his pockets and study them in the brighter morning light, relieved when the carriage had begun to pull away from the boarding house. There were a number of longer scratches on his right palm and one thick tear on the left. Most of the injuries from Brennenburg, save one terrible one he’d gotten from the ———- on his right thigh had healed and even that was nothing more than ragged scar tissue. 

Having injured himself anew was odd and looking at the blood that had welled beneath the surface and stopped no longer triggered vague memories and tittering horror. He was like any other man wasn’t he, cut and bled. Not like the Baron in his otherwordly lies, belonging as the man had to a reality not their own. Daniel was human certainly, for he still bled. 

Transfixed as he was by his own injuries he did not notice that much time had passed until there was a rap to the roof of the carriage that dragged his attention and he pulled himself out of his own head to look out the window. At once there was a flash of remembrance, his own written word describing the dormitory, the little lake beside it, the small cloister of rooms he’d rented on his meager graduate salary. Floating there too along the surface of the lake that reflected light and memory back at him was something that hadn’t been written on but that he could recall like humidity on the skin after a storm - grading papers in early evening light with the familiar scent of an expensive cigar floating on the air and the taste of brandy he could ill afford upon his own tongue. Whose cigar was it, he did not know, but he had been here many times. 

He let the carriage circle thrice before he rapped at the ceiling with his knuckles and Lenny pulled to a halt outside a rowhouse of dark brick and cheerful tall windows. Daniel stepped down and then lent himself up to tiptoes to address Lenny, “Go wait for two hours, you’ll find me either here or by that lake on the far side of the neighborhood.”

He took himself to the building and racked his mind for anymore flitting memories but he could recall nothing else, just that phantom scent of cigars and the taste of brandy. He rapped his knuckles upon the door but no one came. The house didn’t appear to be abandoned nor was it’s placement that which would keep it empty for overlong, close as it was to many academic pursuits, it would certainly be inhabited by a student or two. Maybe they were all away to class?

He gave a wry twist of the lips and moved around the side of the house, going down a gravel drive toward the back-end of the building. There was a full laundry line and the back door was open so Daniel hedged himself around the lines of freshly laundered shirts till he reached the door, where he then rapped against the jam, peering into the open room as he did so. It was a kitchen with brick flooring and walls that had a great big open fireplace in the center of the kind he usually associated with Tudor-era homes. That was not something he quite recalled either, now that he was actively focusing on his own thoughts, he wasn't certain what Tudor even meant, but dwelling on it now he had some recollection that it was a period of time related to a monarchy. 

"Hello?" He called into the empty kitchen, taking his first step inside. The scent of freshly baked bread mixed with soot as he entered all the way, walking past gleaming copper pots and big bronze kettles. A freshly killed chicken lay out on the big wooden table with it's head missing from the rest of it's plucked body. He could not imagine that the table at the boarding house was so well tended and stocked as this one was, and whoever lived here must have supped well. Daniel had lived here according to his papers too, but he couldn't remember chicken dinners or the teacups kept behind glass fronted shelves. 

"Hello, is anyone home?" 

No answer and then the click of a door and quicker steps that overcame Daniel before he could take a step back into the kitchen and out of the open doorway to the inner hall, so quickly did the person come that they nearly collided with Daniel and managed to clip him in the side with their elbow. Spinning a bit and hitting the big worktable in the middle of the room found him almost laying out next to the chicken, but he recovered himself, supported on one wrist by the edge of the table and the rest of him best back over it. Here in his odd pose of recline he could take in the harried looking personal servant who had hastily fled to their post only to find Daniel barring the way to it. A man maybe twenty years Daniel's senior stood apart from him with thick brown hair and dark eyes, everything about him neat except for his half done gloves and his shirt which was partially removed from his belted slacks. He was probably the butler or a valet - someone who worked in the house in some capacity due to his uniform, but to Daniel's surprise the man then rushed out past him into the back yard and quickly disappeared. 

The sound of a door shutting calmly soon broke Daniel from his shock and as footsteps sounded in the hall he pushed himself off the table to a more proper stand but stayed a good deal free of the doorway just in case. 

Another house worker came with presence and purpose into the kitchen - this time leisurely and with an air of dominion and belonging, his clothing immaculate with nothing out of place. In his fifties perhaps, he had regally greying hair and a countenance that would have put any other staff in line, it certainly made Daniel feel like he was meant to be doing something else and should be scolded for not having done it. When the man took him in, especially his worn traveling-cloak, there was a flicker of subdued disgust before the man's gaze traveled up the rest of the way to Daniel's face, where either for good or bad a spark of recognition formed. 

"Young Daniel?" The man asked, putting a hand to his chest, "We heard the entire expedition had perished." There was an amount of gladness, a subdued joy and relief in the otherwise subdued and primped man and before Daniel could answer he had come to within a breath's distance, their bodies barely touching, and reaching out he gently touched Daniel's hair, the side of his face where his cheekbones presented prominently. "What happened to you dear boy?" He then took Daniel by the shoulders and pulled him in against his broad front, enveloping him in an embrace that was not that of house-staff and renter, one hand bracing the back of his neck. 

It would be a lie to himself and to all who heard it to say that Daniel did not give himself over to this embrace, that he did not close his eyes up tight and tangle his abused hands tightly in the back of the man's suit-coat. It was a spiritual experience, one that moved him from the very marrow of his bones, this soft warmth and care. It was the reception he failed to receive from a home that had never been his and he melted into it, feeling the barest press of lips against the crown of his head in so paternal a fashion he felt he could cry. 

"So much, so much happened." He whispered and was disgusted by the thick promise of tears in his own husked voice. He held still as the man stood apart from him and took a better look at him, still in a half-embrace as if afraid to let go of Daniel entirely, like he was a ghost that might vanish. Daniel often felt like that himself so it set a wry kind of amusement in him that threatened to turn into hysterical laughter lest he let it out. He bit his lip and focused himself, only to have the older man smooth his lip free with his gloved thumb. 

"You still have such terrible habits despite time and distance, stop fretting at your lip lest you split it." The older man chided him and did not seem surprised when Daniel jerked free of him and landed back against the table, instead he walked around it and pulled a chair up toward the great big fire. "Come sit, I'll make you cocoa just as you like, please if you are able to, tell me what happened with the Doctor's excavation? Where have you been all this time?"

Before Daniel could say a word the man had taken his arm and pulled him over to the chair, pressing him into it and moving off to the cabinets along one wall he began to take down canisters and cups. Now settled next to the fire he considered the last minute in numb silence. The servant in a state of disarray running away, the house staff with much familiarity to Daniel's person and before-Daniel's life, and the logic of an academic boarding house of post graduates or career scholars without wives. Added in the discovery that Daniel had made of his own personal inclinations toward rougher fare - not to say rough trade no! He had never to his knowledge paid for a prostitute. But he had uncovered on his journey through horror and ragged memory a leaning slant toward the masculine. There were secrets here in this place, and before-Daniel had kept secrets with this man, he knew it as sure as he knew he had been the one to light up that hallway earlier. But these new secrets, the truth of that whole affair? No those truths would die with him, buried in the cold unforgiving earth of Brennenburg. 

"I cannot remember so much. It was terrible." It wasn't even a lie was the thing, and the way his voice quivered and broke was true too. Something must have stalled the man for he turned and looked to Daniel, one hand to his lean chest. "Herbert sent me home, I wasn't there when it... when the site was," he broke himself off for he didn't know what to say, because what had happened in that unholy place was not a sacking it was not human, "When they were murdered." He wondered if they went mad in the final moments as he had, hunted and haunted by that thing in the depths. Unable to outrun it in the desert and one by one slaughtered only for the Shadow to discover that what it sought was no longer there to protect, that Daniel had taken it with him and sealed their fates. 

"Where have you been? You look underfed and your hair has gone strange, your skin is pale as snow. You look almost like an entirely different person, it was only your eyes that stopped me from calling you a trespasser."

How funny then that when Daniel was certain it had been his eyes that had tipped their father off to his changes what this man saw was another page, another fractured piece of the glass. Perhaps something softer indeed and what memory Daniel had recalled of the lake at night and grading papers lent weight to that, for he thought that this place itself had been softer to before-Daniel than 'home' had ever been, even with Frannie stuffing him with treats and having grand dreams for his future. This was a different aspect of life and of the shape of 'Daniel' that he'd been piecing together like the fractured orbs, pieces that did not possibly fit together but somehow must. 

"Germany." His speech was clipped and sharp and his eyes could no longer hold a gaze, falling instead to stare at the floor helplessly, "Someone said he could help me with an object we recovered from the dig and I left as soon as possible, I'd only just heard of the," he faltered again, "Of what happened to Herbert and the others." 

"The Professor would have been beside himself if anything were to happen to you, so delicate you have always been. It is good you are back home, no doubt having you to piece together the Professor's research will ingratiate you with the faculty again." There was a hint of wry intonation in part of his words, the way that the man spoke of the 'Professor' was with some manner of contempt but Daniel could not consider it overmuch when the man instantly pathed in a direction Daniel loathed.

"I cannot take up a posting." Daniel cringed a bit when the man crossed his arms at him in so authoritative a manner. 

"Your self esteem is as always barely present I see. The faculty would be overjoyed to have someone to piece through the Professor's work and remaining legacy, the other students have complained bitterly enough about it and you were always brilliantly attuned to the histories."

"I don't remember it, I don't remember any of it!" Daniel snapped, hands shaking so badly he had to press them together on his lap and he couldn't look up, could only stare at the shifting of shadows playing out on the brick hearth. "I had a - I've forgotten everything, all I have is some letters and little windows of memories, I cannot take a posting because I cannot remember."

He didn't see him turn from him, nor finish the drink, he didn't even see him come close, did not know anything but his own panic and frustration until gentle gloved hands pried the clutch of his own free and placed them around the warmth of a steaming cup. Kneeling beside him the man looked up at him with warm and sympathetic brown eyes and he held his hands around Daniel's keeping them firm on the cup. 

"Do not tell a single soul what you have told me, do not intimate it, do not infer it, do not trust anyone that you cannot recall and even then do not trust them unless they give of themselves something equally vulnerable. They will lock you away in an asylum and you will die there. Do not tell anyone anything personal of yourself if you can help it." The earnestness of the man's words, the way he held Daniel's gaze steady and kept him still with his hands around the cup, the way Daniel was so very sure this man knew him, they all combined to lay the impact of his words heavy and hard upon Daniel. 

"I haven't been, not really - it was all just so much right now and I - I do not know why I told you any of it, I had no intention to." 

"Some part of you probably remembered that I keep everyone's secrets here." The man stood and straightened his back, the lean presence of him setting a longing into Daniel that he hadn't felt since Brennenburg, for comfort, for solace. But he found none of that in that place and encountered only spiteful longing in himself - which served as a reminder here, for he could guess what kind of secrets this man kept for himself and others, especially remembering the state of dress that the other servant had been in, there was an implication of something there that Daniel was polite enough not think on overmuch. "So you do not remember me? Then I am remiss in my manners, allow me to introduce myself."

Standing, the other man brought a chair around the table to sit closer to Daniel, their knees almost touching in a secretive stance. "Gerald Messan, I am the butler of Lady Willowlark's dormitory, a house for post graduates of the histories and sciences. I run the day to day here and do most of the work that personal valets of our residents do not or cannot do. You were put up here by the university and provided for as the teacher's assistant to Professor Herbert East, you had no valet nor trust and depended entirely on the house for your day to day needs." Gerald Messan's intonation turned from matter of fact to a sort of soft affection, "You were of the upmost help but also often got in the way or underfoot in your desire to help, since you brought nothing you tried to overcompensate for this by doing your own household chores and were dreadful at laundry but improved in time. You will find yourself a favorite among the servants in this household and at the college."

Daniel flushed a bit for himself and for that which came before him, he had no recollection of any of this but he could imagine it based on the letters he had and the journal before-Daniel had kept, the man he had been was a well-intentioned and naive scholar with no spine who allowed others to bully or lead him. When he finally stood up for himself it was as if a shell had gone off on a battle-field and with the same general destruction left in it's wake. That which stood under pressure for too long would certainly find itself in an explosive state at some point. 

"I hesitate in telling you this for the man you were before would never have heard such a thing from a man you so greatly respected," Mr. Messan paused before gently laying a hand on Daniel's knee, "Herbert East was a cruel man to you and some of the other undergrads. He delighted in humiliating you and if you were to take up a position ordering and sorting through his remaining papers it would likely allow you to sort through your own identity and relearn some of your station. No one would doubt that your loyalty to the Professor did not extend through his death, you were never aware of his ill-intentions."

Daniel's head swum at the revelation. He'd already recalled the pink parasol story to Frannie but even then he had done so in a way of wry self-humiliation, how much of a burden he'd been in the dig with his sensitive nature. It had never occurred to him, even this new version of him, that Herbert could have found a parasol that wasn't pink, or even borrowed an umbrella from someplace. Even now his view on the people mentioned in his letters and journals remained coloured by past perceptions and rose-tinted realities. Her trusted Gerald Messan's view on the situation, he knew in some deep place that the man had a level head and open eyes. More importantly by his very council so far Daniel knew the man had his best interest somewhat in mind. 

Nodding Daniel took a sip of the chocolate, stunned to silence by the same deep slash of memory that had caught him when he'd first come here. The decadent taste of fine brandy, this time mixed through with the cocoa. Licking his lips he stared at the cup in some measure of surprise. Starting when Mr. Messan laughed across from him, a throaty warm sound, and he looked up at the man to see a soft affection in his fatherly gaze. 

"You always did like the brandy." The man shrugged, "I thought it might calm your nerves."

"I remember this." Daniel admitted softly, "Brandy and the scent of expensive cigars while I graded papers. Dim lantern light and the sound of the lake." 

"So it is not all been taken from you? Those would be Mr. Lobe's cigars - another graduate student - and the lake you must have seen. You would all take your papers down to the gazebo and work on them together during more clement nights." Mr. Messan took his hands back to himself and leaned back in his chair, taking a long look at Daniel, "What happened to the excavation, Daniel? Was that what took your memory from you?"

The whole sordid tale, he could not possibly tell it all, what trust he had earned he would certainly destroy with a story that clearly labeled him escaped from the very asylums that Mr. Messan warned him against. "It was in Prussia, in Germany - I was sent away from the excavation, there was a collapse of the site and I was buried in with an artifact. I lost time and my nerves as well, Herbert packed me up and sent me home with some of the broken artifacts in tow." He tucked an errant lock of hair back out of his face and paused to take another sip of the brandy-laced cocoa. "Looking for answers I quickly fled London again to Prussia and it was there that I lost myself. As to the dig, I have nothing more to add there, for I cannot even guess at what happened in the desert to poor Herbert and the others." Except of course he could guess and he could even hazard an estimate that he knew precisely what had happened, for it had happened to others left in the wake of that fractured orb; they'd all been eaten up by the fleshy mass of the Shadow, taken and consumed as fuel in it's endless hunt for that which it had so guarded through ancient centuries, since those things had been left in the remains of great fallen civilizations to rot, taken there from wherever their original long dead owners had left them. Just as the Baron's own traveling locket had broken and left him stranded here in a place unknown to him.

He wondered how dutifully the man's wife had greeted him, and he hoped in a fit of spite that she'd moved on, even as he considered how impossible that very task was for him to consider. Moving on? He had never even had the man to begin with, that deep and strange love and unholy devotion had been unrequited for all that Daniel could read from his own broken memories and remaining papers. 

"Why did you come here, if not to take up your life again?" Mr. Messan asked, and Daniel put the cup down on the table only half-drained, afraid his thoughts would be addled if he took anymore.

"To pick at the pieces that remained, to see if I might recall anything as well as inventory what resources are available to me. I was not counting on being known to the extent that you seemed to have known me." 

With a wry smile Mr. Messan shrugged, "I know all of my boys, you are all my business." When he saw the way that Daniel flushed he waved his hand in dismissal, "Not in that way," Mr. Messan drew off to make a soft humming sound of consideration, "You no doubt have recollection of your deeper inclinations?" It was a tentative hinting, a veiled question and when Daniel nodded quietly he continued, "You were without paramour your entire stay here, I believe you were entirely unaware of romantic notions past a longing for affection you shared the secret of with like-minded men. Young Messirs Lobe and Bower shared similar inclinations with you." 

"So I was pining and lonely." Daniel's lips twitched at how little indeed had changed between then and Prussia. How pitiful and yet what could he say for himself but that the naivety had turned toward bitterness? Maturity had brought nothing of happiness to him. 

Something in his countenance had given Mr. Messan pause and his silence and tension drew Daniel's attention. The man was now considering him with a far more thoughtul and critical air, to which Daniel felt the desire to run away from, but fleeing out the open kitchen door into the laundry lines felt ridiculous so that even his flighty personality remained seated for the scrutiny. 

"You are indeed much changed, Daniel of Mayfair." Mr. Messan murmured. "If it is pieces you wish to pick through, again might I suggest you take that posting to sort through Professor East's post-humous works?"

"Do you know how terribly hard it was for me to locate an actual surname for myself due to my propensity to sign my papers with naught but a place of origin?" He let his agitation and bemusement slip, and then he flushed with the outburst and contained himself once more. "I cannot help but think that it would be a terrible idea but I also find myself curious as to what research the late Professor has that I do not." The man had considered the Baron a friend, no doubt their shared correspondence, if located in his papers at the university, would be invaluable to Daniel and his machinations now. "Did I leave anything here? I assumed it would be thrown out or I had taken everything with me to Algeria."

Mr. Messan's smile was a sharp and glorious thing, and he stood from his chair, beckoning Daniel with his clean gloved hand. "Half in the attic, and Mr. Bower kept the other half, in his words 'To remember you by.' I oft see him wearing your waistcoat." 

He followed the butler up unfamiliar stairs, keeping close to the circle of lamp light the man took with him, traveling past an open parlor and small library before they reached the servant's quarters and then further up to a locked attic door. The man procured from his belt a large key-ring which had been oddly muted their entire passage and only now made the sound of metal clanging together as he fitted the proper key to the lock. The attic was unfamiliar too, filled with what Daniel assumed was years of left behind artifacts of the man young men who made Lady Willowlark's Dormitory their home. Trunks and crates were filled with an odd assortment of paraphernalia and along the corners of the attic's sloping roof were tucked a number of seasonal amusements, now packed away while they awaited the next spring. 

Mr. Messan brought them up short before a low steamer trunk covered lightly with dust, and handed Daniel the lamp. He carefully held the oil lamp up and felt the weight of it follow all the way through his arm to the socket, so nearly the perfect weight it almost dragged him back entirely to the castle, as if the weight alone might transport him like the orbs the Baron had lied and cheated to get his hands upon. Taking a step back as if he could lose that place, as if he could run from his own memories here in this attic room so very far away from the horrors he had witnessed, he nearly fell right over another trunk and was only halted in his topple backwards by Mr. Messan's quick actions, grabbing his free arm and steadying him before he could fall and dash the lamp and hot oil all over the place. 

The sudden activity caused a great disturbance of the years and years of dust accumulating in the attic room. Choking out as it puffed into his face Daniel found himself suddenly unable to stop coughing, and with humiliation he was taken to the ground as his legs gave out on him. Mr. Messan took the lantern and placed it on another trunk, holding him by the shoulder and gently stroking down his back as he was racked with a deep and unforgiving cough. 

He thought it oddly fitting that he be struck down by something he'd carried back with him from the castle, albeit nothing quite so surreal as a Shadow or Otherworldly pressence, just a simple disease of man, perhaps from the blood that before-Daniel had spilled or some thicker miasma that lingered in ancient moldering hallways. How fitting that he escaped it all only to have it creep along with him all the way to London. 

Pressing his hands to his mouth as if to hold in those coughs and choked again and again until all of a sudden Mr. Messan gave his back one hard thwack and he gasped, held upright, eyes wide and fearful as oxygen filled his lungs again, pushing out the sick wet sounds in his chest. When his hands fell away from his face Mr. Messan grabbed them and held them close to the lantern for scrutiny; to Daniel's horror they showed bright red specks and thick mucus. 

"How often?" Mr. Messan carefully cleaned his hands with his own kerchief much to Daniel's displeasure but he ignored the protests. "You're taken with the consumption, you need a doctor."

He could already hear the derision in the Baron's long-gone voice, a memory that barely surfaced and swam around under different impressions and vague recollections. The medicine of the 'modern' man held very little respect in the Baron's views, and Daniel knew without knowing, not truly, that there was nothing a doctor could do for him. But what other hope did he have but to try one? "Do you have a name?" 

When Mr. Messan sent him away it was with a trunk of artifacts belonging to another man's life and a calling card for a discreet medical professional. Daniel hoped against all hope that one of the two things would be of some use to him. 


	3. Blood on Me

The morning events had left Daniel drained and as soon as one of Mrs. Forrestson's boys had brought his trunk up to his room he turned the latch and collapsed into bed. It was only his fear of the dark that had awakened him before the sun could truly set but even so the dimly glowing coals of the still burning fireplace gave him enough light to put up the gas lamps properly. 

With some effort he dragged the trunk from near the door and desk over toward the fireplace and set upon it's contents while sitting before the hearth. Taking careful inventory of the contents he found the following: four personal journals, seven workbooks, three bound thesis papers, two metal quill pens, one bottle of ink half-empty, a full box and a half of candles, four boxes of damp (and as such useless) matches, and a pair of spotless black boots that he had probably worn to special events. 

Mr. Messan had explained that one of the other students had taken claim of his clothing, and Daniel did not find himself in great need of recovering it, finding his skin crawled at the concept of having to wear clothes that someone else had worn, he'd had enough of that on his way back from London. 

The journals were the boon in the whole box, while he could not make much sense of the papers with his name upon them, Daniel of Mayfair's carefully kept records of the day to day made the whole trip worth it. Names, places, how he felt about things and his ever present optimism and naive trust in the balance of the world, in the passage of time, and in the truth of dust and crumbling ruins.

He did not realize it was the morrow until cold dawn light came in through the little sliver of space between buildings, so absorbed he had been in the life that had born him. Clasping the journal shut he stretched himself, standing he took slow walks around the room, and as he did the blood began to flow and he felt the fatigue setting into his bones but also a flare of energy as if a match had been struck in the very core of himself. 

While he had been loathe to take the posting yesterday, with new eyes on the whole endeavor and his own journals and bookwork to go off, it might not be as impossible to fake his way through it. Certainly it would give him a great many resources at his disposal and if it was really as Mr. Messan had said it to be there would be little in the way of people doubting his validity or status in processing Professor East's documents. It sounded as if Daniel had been one of the few students or faculty who could understand the Professor's personal ordering or writing when he was not being loaned a secretary to make the notations for him (and thus leave a legible record.) 

It sounded in all honesty as if before-Daniel had been a mix of book keeper, secretary, and teacher's assistant to the 'good' professor, and Daniel as he was now had very little love for the man who had dragged the orb up out of the earth to begin with. Perhaps his viewpoint had been coloured by Mr. Messan's opinion of the Professor but he couldn't help but to recall the pink parasol incident and with age and time the way Herbert had sounded in his cloudy memory was not at all gently ribbing as Daniel had previously considered him to be.

He was no longer an easy target, so his 'father' had learned, but it would do him no good if everyone else knew that too, and in truth if he decided to take a posting then it would only be beneficial to him should people think he was still the same sensitive and naive Daniel. Being honest with himself he knew he was going to contact the university shortly with his offer, the promise of more research about the Algeria dig, what Herbert's patrons had known that he hadn't, and the correspondence between Herbert and the Baron was enough to wet the appetite. With his own key to a life lost in Daniel of Mayfair's journals and texts he could at least make his way long enough to get what he wanted and get out. 

He was pacing so much he had not noticed the candles rolling free of their old brown-paper box, did not notice till one of them was underfoot and then it was too late as the heel of his boot rolled along with it, flinging the half stump of brown candle across the room and slamming Daniel backwards onto the floor hard. 

In the dark there was very little for him to focus on, fleeting impressions of voices and snippets of conversation he could not chase after fast enough. He held a lit match with him and every step he took gave him even more anxiety at the thought of losing the light by an errant gust of wind or his own restless wandering. He could find nothing tangible in the darkness and nothing lit of in the brightness of his matches tiny light. 

He remembered standing in the 'work' room deep in the bowels of the castle with the baron close to him one hand pressed to the center of Daniel's back to guide him in his ministrations. He remembered screaming wordless as he brought a rock down again and again upon a faceless form, his own tiny childish form heaving with the exertion. He remembered heat beating down on him so hard and bright he went blind with it and how in the dark he almost suffocated.

He awoke laid out in the boarding room bed, uncomfortable as it was, with the fire well-lit and a chair pulled up beside his bed. Drawing back from his prone form was a stranger, who gave him a sheepish sort of smile. A few years older than Daniel he wore traveling clothes of an upper-middle class sort, too nice to be a working man but not fine enough to be upper class entirely. 

"I am Doctor Seward, you had my card and the Lady of the house assumed I was your personal doctor and had me come when you were found fainted." His voice was even and calm, inspiring a lethargy in the listener and he had a gentleness to his face that inspired confidence but Daniel remembered Mr. Messan's words and chose to conduct himself appropriately. "You fell, do you remember what happened?"

Daniel's eyes cast around the room, finally falling on the candle stub that had rolled under the desk near the door. "I tripped over a candle while looking through my belongings." A sudden sharp jolt went through him. Yesterday his crate should have cleared customs and he'd spent all day locked up in the room reading. Sitting up too suddenly sent his head spinning and he was overcome with pain and nausea, nearly having to vomit. 

The doctor pushed him gently back onto the bed and held him there by one hand upon his shoulder. "You have to rest Mr. Tremaine."

"No you do not understand, I had an important crate arri-" he cut himself off with the intense feeling of nausea that befell him and taking a gasping breath set him into coughs, to his horror and great displeasure Dr. Seward pressed his kerchief to Daniel's mouth until he finally stopped cough, and then he considered it's brightly stained contents. 

"Your lungs still sound healthy, this is likely one of the first signs you've shone? Did you have a coughing fit and slip?" 

"No," Daniel panted, gritting his teeth he pushed his hand out to point to the corner under the desk, "I slipped on that damned candle. Let me up." But he did not even try to struggle upwards, when Dr. Seward pressed his hand into Daniel's shoulder he obediently fell back into the pillows. 

Dr. Seward smiled at him softly, "You remind me of someone. Just rest here and I will see if your crate has been delivered, is that an acceptable trade? Then when I return you can take some broth and a bit of medicine." With little choice in the matter Daniel nodded and laid there as the doctor left. By the time he had recovered enough to attempt to sit up the man was back, his long legs carrying him with speed, he was probably able to take the steps three at a time easily. 

"The driver who came around to fetch me for you told me to inform you that your belongings had been fetched as you mentioned them and are awaiting you to be well enough to receive them." Dr. Seward was obviously not quoting verbatim for Lenny probably couldn't pronounce receive properly. The man moved to the stove top near Daniel's small fire and brought the kettle free from it, pouring some hot water over a bowl - one he'd no doubt borrowed from Mrs. Forrestson. Bringing the broth over to Daniel he held the bowl carefully up to his lips and helped him to drink it. 

The heat hit him first, flooding his chest all the way through with warmth and he fell back onto limp pillow as it inched out through his aching chest. His headache slowly lifting with each added sip the Doctor helped him to take in. "I put some willow powder, asprin, in for you to help with that nasty bump on your head. You're a student at the university? I assume you to be a learned man, your papers were strewn about and I collected them for you while I waited for you to recover."

"I've graduated, I am an archaeologist, those are very important and you shouldn't have touched them, they're to do with my profession and are very important." Daniel groused as the man helped him to sit up properly and began to prod at the back of his head, asking him if it hurt when he poked here and there. "Yes of course it hurts, I hit my head." When he noticed that Dr. Seward was hiding a laugh he tried to jerk away and push himself out of the bed only for the man to prove his greater strength, catching Daniel up by one wrist and the ball of his shoulder he pushed him back down to sit and stood over him. 

Daniel looked up at him and in the shadow of firelight and gas lamp he became another figure, towering over the side of Daniel's bed in the dim light as sickness wracked his mind and body, but when Dr. Seward gentled him it was not right, these hands were not long and spindly - they were too warm. He tossed a bit in the bed and the doctor laughed now softly, "I must warn you, I work in a Sanitarium these days and you won't be able to break free, just rest before you set yourself coughing again Mr. Tremaine."

Knowing the truth of his words he let himself go lax and earned the removal of the Doctor's hands. "How enchanting a creature you are, you musn't fret and worry yourself to exhaustion, we will have you active again soon. Although in honesty you would do better to be sent to the coast and away from the city until your lungs have healed, men of history and science rarely are given such leisure time, no?"

"No, in that you are correct." He didn't have time to be sick and so despite the lingering whisper of the Baron's voice in the very back of his head he took the medicine that Dr. Seward presented him with and also the prescription to be taken around to the apothecary. When the doctor had finally left and he was certain he wouldn't be barging back into his room he took himself to the fireplace and angrily thrust the paper script into the flames with a poker without reading it. He did not have time to be sick and he felt it like the creep of the Shadow, as if this was another kind of guardian chasing after him. He had survived so much, this would not take him, and he took his anger out on the coals, stoking them until a cheery heat had filled up his room. 

He noted the door opening as a creek and turning with the poker red-hot in hand he must have been a terrible sight for Lenny what with his auburn-copper hair glinting by fire light and that bran held aloft like some faye creature from hell itself. Lenny certainly slammed himself back against the wall, one hand flying to his chest in shock before he seemed to recover and recognize the figure before him as his current patron.

"Mr. Tremaine you should be sitting." 

"I was cold." Daniel turned from him and put the poker away beside the stove, "Come in you're letting the heat out." 

Lenny went in obediently and shut the door behind himself, standing awkwardly by it as there were still no chairs to be had. Daniel himself sat down atop the trunk he'd brought home with him yesterday and crossed his legs, looking at Lenny with expectant silence. "I brought round your crate from customs, as you told me about, when you didn't answer to the knocking yesterday I assumed you wanted for me t'get it so I went round and did that. Would you like for us to bring it up now?" 

Daniel considered how much time had been lost of the day, how consumed he'd been with his journals before now, and how likely he would be to work through the night yet again. He knew himself enough to know that the answer would have been the same regardless of which version of Daniel Tremaine of Mayfair had been asked it. 

"Yes please if you would, have Mrs. Forrestson's boys help you bring it up, and then go around to pick me up another dish from the same place for sup." 

Lenny left quickly, as if the room was indeed some portalway to hell. By the time he had returned with the crate and one of Mrs. Forrestson's boys a great number of candles had been lit around the various surfaces of the room, giving Daniel enough light to work by. Edging in right behind them, holding up one end of the crate was Hyam Singer, dark eyes curiously casting around the room, not that Daniel could fault him his interest.

Together the three men put the crate down a short distance from Daniel's bed, set dead-center in the room. Apparently think ahead, the house-boy proffered a prybar out toward Daniel.

"I haven't the strength." Daniel inclined his head toward Mr. Singer, feeling a little generous, "Would you be able to manage for me?" 

Gladly Mr. Singer went to the crate's nailed down top with the prybar and one after another the nails were removed. Lifting the crate lid free revealed the straw that had been used to cushion the belongings and here Daniel finally stood from his seat upon the trunk to help unpack his own belongings. That these were his belongings could not be disputed, there was no one left alive to claim ownership of the Baron's estate, and what remained of it no one knew save Daniel himself.

After clearing the straw he withdrew the first piece of his grim 'inheritance' from the crate, unfolding the long hanging tapestry free from it's rolled place atop the contents. Where time had worn the edges there was fraying but it did not betray the beauty of the entire piece which remained quite intact. Amidst a garden of exotic flora lay a single unicorn - a symbol of purity and virgin cleanliness unstained by the centuries. It was likely a priceless hanging and one that would have fallen to mold and decay had Daniel not dragged it out with him. 

To the subdued shock of the assembled, save for Daniel who already knew the contents, a large plush chair of red upholstery was pulled free - equally old and somewhat heavy. Following this were many smaller boxes and books. As only Mr. Singer could read he did not mind Lenny and the house-boy handing them, and they piled them up on the desk in the corner. A set of decorative silver knives, half a chemistry kit, and a little bronze statue of a man in repose came next. 

Finally it was Mr. Singer to break the silence, "Did you sack some Germanic castle, Mr. Tremaine?" 

"No, it was abandoned, I do not have the stomach for murder." Daniel laughed and they all seemed to think it was a joke and laughed too, save the house-boy who just seemed uncomfortable and lacked comprehension of the situation, he was probably missing his dinner. "As you can see gentleman, I'm able to unpack my belongings on my own, the heaviest things have been lifted out." 

Lenny cuffed the house-boy by the shoulder, "Help me drag this box out to the shed." Turning to Daniel he did a half-salute, "I'll be right back with your sup, Mr. Tremaine." 

When they had gone Mr. Singer motioned toward the stacked books, "May I?" 

Nodding, Daniel turned his attention to the chair, pushing it over nearer to the fire, before considering the wall space he was alloted and how best to hang his tapestry. Behind him was the rustling of pages and it was in this way for some time that they remained in companionable silence, with Daniel unpacking little odds and ends and putting them wherever he could find a space they'd fit. He was mentally measuring the dimensions he'd require for a proper alchemical station when Mr. Singer gave a short cry and dropped the book he'd been holding. 

Spinning round Daniel braced himself against his bed and nearly crouched down beside it, with a sharp feeling of humiliation he knew he'd been about to try and push himself under it, to hide under the bed like a child. Mr. Singer held a hand to his chest and his lips were moving silently in prayer, Hebrew that Daniel could not understand. Pushing himself up he got a look at the book he'd been reading and scowled to see it was one of the Baron's journals. Most of the pages were coded and Daniel could not recount anything particularly horrible but certainly Mr. Singer had. Stepping up toward the man brought Mr. Singer back out of his fit, and he held his hand out toward Daniel, quivering as it was. "You must never speak to this man again. His designs on you are not friendly." 

Of course one of the passages Daniel couldn't read, out of the half a dozen languages he was fluent in and the dozen or so he could work out, it had to be that the Baron had chosen to write a passage in a language he couldn't read but Mr. Singer could. Why the man could not look at a medical text or one of the historical compilations was beyond Daniel. 

"You need not worry Mr. Singer, the good Baron has departed from our mortal coil and his designs upon me failed." 

Mr. Singer bent and retrieved the journal, and with shaking hand he held it out toward Daniel who took it and pressed it to his chest, trying to pretend he did not covet the book still as a means of contacting someone beyond his kin, "His appetites were wrong." Mr. Singer said and then made his farewell, leaving Daniel to wonder what the devil the Baron had written about him in that journal while he waited for Lenny to return with his dinner. 

_ Minx and madness maker, Daniel you know not your own enchanting possibilities. One day you will read the text in this book, so clever you are, but this I cannot allow you to know. How much solace you have given me in these hours, the sound of your voice is a balm and yet you will fall. I see it even now, your precious humanity stripping away with each unlacing of your sanity. One day there will be nothing left to scrape away from the bones of you, I will have ruined you so entirely, and yet how beautiful you will become. _

_ I would taste you first, before you lose what is left of the innocence that makes you so impossible to abstain for creatures like me. Please forgive me dear friend, what you will become will be far greater than you could have ever hoped to achieve alone, and I cannot help myself. You do not know just how lonely I have been. How delightful it is to break you to me. _


	4. The Charge (Knockturnul)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes we use song names as chapters here in this side of the gay sphere
> 
> alternative title for this whole story -  
> everyone: daniel no  
> daniel: daniel YES

He took a nap after dinner and then just as he knew he would he worked through the night and into the morning. When he finger-combed his hair in the broken mirror of the bathing house down the street from the boarding house and gave himself a shave he only marginally looked alive. But there was a solution for that and he purchased a cup of the coffee the Turks liked so much before rousing Lenny to drive him to another one of the addresses in his book, this time the London address of the late Professor Herbert East. 

The slight recollection that had followed him during his time at Lady Willowlark's dormitory was completely absent here and in fact he perhaps felt greater out of place than he had at any point since stepping foot in London. Using the brass knocker he waited, having sent Lenny to wait elsewhere he suddenly regretted not having the man stay in case he was turned right away from the door, or in case no one answered at all. Just beginning to lose hope he heard from within the three story house some distant sound of life, so he used the knocker again but louder and waited with baited breath.

He didn't have to wait as long to hear another sound, this time there was the patter of feet followed by a feminine voice from inside, "If you are a solicitor you must contact us through our lawyer and if you are the magistrate we already posted the taxes!" 

"Good lady I am neither, I am Daniel Tremaine of Mayfair, student and assistant to the late Profes-" before he could finished the latch had been undone and the door swung wide, a woman his same age stood nearly at his height, her eyes looking as wild as he felt his did sometimes, and her hair in disarray from it's high previously-fashionable bun, "-sor East."

"You're Daniel!" She cried, hands reaching out to take him by the shoulders and hold him apart from her. Daniel wondered what it was about him that made people want to do this, and if he could ever hope to change it. 

"Yes, I am Daniel." 

"You never met me but I'm Penelope East, your Professor was my father." Despite that and Daniel's new found knowledge of the man's cruel streak, she seemed as if she was meeting a minor celebrity in her social circles. "I heard you all died! However did you make it out alive?" 

"I was- I was not there." Ms. East had quite a way of speaking about her father's death that led Daniel to consider her mourning blacks were perhaps more for show, but perhaps it was his bitterness showing through, he did not know how one usually mourned their father's passing and Daniel's own mother must have passed before he began to keep his journals. His only comparison was, no, no he could not dwell on that now or he would lose himself entirely. 

"Lucky you then, did the university send you to sort through his office? It's a wreckage I fear, we've been trying to find his financial papers, mother is in an absolute tizzy." 

"No, I..." why was he here, well no he knew why he was here, if it had been a housemaid or other house staff who had answered he would have stated he was the late Professor's former assistant and had come to retrieve some files, at which point he'd rummage through the man's office as much as he was able, but it hadn't been house staff to answer it was the man's own daughter, "I came to pay my respects."

"You could do us better by helping us, you simply must come inside and see what you might find!" 

It was in this way that Daniel found himself spending the afternoon and evening with the East Family, largely left alone to do as he liked in the office ( which had been nearly destroyed by people overturning things looking for the aforementioned financial documents likely.) At dinner, which he simply must attend in thanks for finding the tax book, Mrs. East - the formidable white-haired head of the household sat him in the guests seat of honor and told him matter of factly how wrong her husband had been in estimate of his worth, for he was full of cleverness and if he had been so silly would he have been able to find those papers hidden up in the Eagle state? She thought not, how clever Daniel was.

In truth Daniel felt like perhaps the woman was arguing with a ghost, as if in her husband's death she continued to fault him, and being the subject of another argument was uneasy, even if the other party to the argument had likely been ripped to shreds in the Algerian night. Feeling a little dizzy he was finally sent away with a stack of correspondence and papers as well as a star shaped soap-stone paperweight and the promise that he come again as soon as he might.

Lenny eyed the paperweight with some amount of trepidation as he held the carriage door open for Daniel, "Don't mind sayin' I'm not fond of the look of that thing, it seems wrong in some way. Mr. Tremaine."

"That is funny, that is what Mrs. East said when she made me take it away with me." Looking down at the stone he gave Lenny a comforting smile, "It's just a bit of carved stone Lenny, you needn't worry about it." 

Daniel knew from his original flight which addresses and contacts were dead ends, in fact the Baron had been the quickest to answer and the one with all the promise but of course that had turned out terribly. Well, smiling wryly, he figured it turned out the worst for the victims of the Baron. The Baron and before-Daniel. 

Shivering he made his way right to his room when they arrived and making himself a cup of tea he locked himself up inside. Idly he put the soapstone on top of a number of books he'd pulled from his crate yesterday and moved to begin the laborious process of lighting all of his many candles so that he would not strain his eyes working only by the light of his small fireplace. Moving to strike his match while still holding his teacup had been a bad idea, and his nerves and lack of grace caused him to lose grasp of both. The cup of tea was dashed on the wood and the match hit the wet spot, rendering both useless. Stooping he cursed himself under his breath and grasped at the shards of porcelain only to cut himself upon it. 

"Idiot, useless, imbecile. This is why he left us!" The words struck out of him like a whiplash and they hurt as much against his skin, standing abruptly he trembled bone deep and clutched his sluggishly bleeding palm to himself, "I don't want him!" A lie, a lie, even now the poison whispered deep in his veins, a lie Daniel of Mayfair, you want him, you miss him, the Baron who abandoned you to this, to a life half-remembered.

Flinging out his hand in anger it struck the tower of books and then he lunged at them, catching them in his arms before they could too hit the floor and cause someone to come up and check on him, the last of what he wanted tonight was to have someone be a witness to his mental break. Herbert's books and varied letters slid up against his chest along with the Baron's journal. Atop it all the odd paperweight lost balance and toppled over the edge, by miracle Daniel twisted his hand and felt the odd shape land directly into his palm. 

One minute he was standing in the dim light of the fireplace with a broken teacup and an armful of books. The next moment the gas lamps were brightly lit, all of his various candles flickered to sudden vibrant life, and before his very eyes the teacup that had shattered reformed as if put together by invisible hands the sound of it's porcelain surface skittering along the ground like little unearthly spiders. It then lay alone and untouched on the ground. With a feeling of numb surprise he put the stack of books down and held the soap-stone star tighter in his hand. He turned his attention to the fireplace and the front of it exuded so much heat all of a sudden he thought for a moment he was in some other world entirely, before it expended the energy source entirely and suddenly plunged the fireplace to darkness, not even embers remaining. 

Quickly putting the soap-stone paperweight down he took himself to the fireplace and considered the contents within. First he poked at the hard structure with the poker and then judged the heat of it with his hand hovering above it but the metal and the contents of the fireplace itself were cold to the touch. Impossible considering how brightly the fireplace had burnt just moments prior. Fetching out the remnants of the kindling, the coal broke way in his hands and to his immense shock and disbelief a large diamond lay clean in his hand. Impossible of course, the pressure required could not possibly be acquired from a boarding house in the middle of London. Yet there was a rock within his hand. His mostly clean hand, unmarred by injury.

Heart in his throat he turned his attention back to the paperweight he'd put down. It should be smeared with blood and tea. It should be but it was clean as could be. Setting down the rock on the heart before the fireplace Daniel then brushed his hands off on his slacks and went to bed. Tomorrow's Daniel could handle all of this. 


	5. Flesh Without Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More OCs coming out of the woodwork~
> 
> Also... yes hello Dracula references... also Biohazard.

He dragged himself down to the dining room to break his fast at first loathe to see Allens there but then heartened to see that Mr. Singer seemed to have forgotten what he had read in the Baron's journal for his face brightened at the sight of Daniel. A third had joined them this morning, a red-headed man of some strength and thickness with a days worth of beard growth already and a clever handsome face. At least two of his breakfast companions were comely, as much as he loathed Allens for his personality. 

"Mr. Tremaine," Singer greeted him and inclined his head toward the third man seated at the table, "This is Mr. Redfield." 

"Good morning." Helping himself to cold bread and preserves he inclined his head toward the large man.

"He's a constable, aren't you? I heard that Tremaine there had illegally smuggled goods from some castle." Allens smirked a smug look at Daniel. Of course the house-boy had told him, what an odiferous man, couldn't keep his nose out of it. 

"They're my inheritance." Daniel frowned at the man, eyes ducking down to his bread, before glancing at the implied constable. 

"I only deal in stolen goods if someone has reported them stolen, usually the dead don't have much to report on." Redfield spoke with an accent that Daniel found hard to place and gave Allens what he could only interpret to be a sneer, but Allens was too busy shoveling his fried scraps into his gullet to notice. Nodding to Singer and Daniel, the man stood up and the former estimate of large was raised to massive, any thief in the way of this man would be seeing their savior soon certainly. Daniel found himself staring at him dumbly and found his mouth dry, which he wetted upon his cup of tea. 

Returning to his room he set upon the collected papers of three men, and letters from more.

' _ I have found descriptions of carved stones that match our training mechanisms, useless to me now, but interesting none the less _ .' Written in the Baron's fine script in one book.

Then in Herbert East's illegible scrawl, ' _ Monsieur Florbelle writes to me of the interesting properties in one of the stones recovered from a dig in Normandy. His broken progeny seemed transfixed upon it at times.' _

' _ Should you find anymore of the carved stars please send them to me at your soonest convenience dear friend. _ ' In a letter whose signature had been lost on a following page, not kept with Herbet's files for whatever reason. 

' _ They would find them useless fancies, unable to be used to the full potential, to train the mind and open it as ours might _ .' 

Daniel reads and wishes he hadn't, because it cannot be true, it cannot be real, he is human as anyone else living and breathing in London right now, his diseased lungs filling with the same oxygen, he was human! He had to be, even the Baron had said as such, he couldn't take Daniel with him through the portal. One strange impossible rendition of the man's thrilling voice set in a canister that had spoken as if he'd been inside of it himself, had told Daniel his guilt at having to leave his friend behind and go 'home' without him. A promise of caring that hadn't been meant for Daniel to hear at all, but which had been one of many turning points in his new beginning. Could he fault a man who just wanted to go home? The before-Daniel had done far worse to keep himself one step away from the Shadow's maw, and while he faulted himself he could not judge another. 

But that have him no answers now, only more questions. If he was human then, human when he took the amnesia draught, then what was he now? Had the change begun from the moment he took the damascus rose or before? Was it after, when the Shadow had left him alone in the remains of the castle and Weyer's voice had finally faded from the echoing of his mind? Which part of the journey had left him so dynamically changed that he suddenly had some grasp on elemental transmutations he lacked before? Was he more like the Baron than his own kin now? 

Turning the paper-weight around and around in his hands he considered the facts. He was more than he had been in more ways than one. He had no answers and none would likely come forth. He was alone and every possibility was left open before him.

Above all though, nothing had changed, he would still carry onward in his quest. There were broken orbs to piece together and doorways tantalizingly out of reach, save now he had a potential boon he'd lacked before - if he could figure out how to use it without draining himself dead.

Practicing took much of the day and the silver knives he'd taken with him from Brennenburg had a use past pawning, the real reason he'd taken them to begin with. He could no longer count the passes he'd made into his own flesh, the things he had made and unmade, and the healing that the stone had rendered upon him. He learned that the blood was the fuel, the suffering coalesced, and it was no wonder that the Baron knew so many ways to torture a man - he had no doubt invented some of them and thrust them upon humanity, having taken them from his own terrible place of origin. What amazing things one might do with pain and suffering if they only knew how to use it.

Collapsing onto the chair next to the fire he put his face into his hands and wept anew, and not for the first or last time that day. His sanity fractured, plunging him into blind back night, crying out he scrambled forward till he was on his knees before the chair, face pressed into the cushioned seat. There was a feeling of cool air and then hands were pulling him up. He only then realized that someone was there with him, and grasping blindly he clutched the sleeve of the other man, voice catching on the edge of mania as he whispered desperately, "My lord, Alexander?"

"You fainted again Mr. Tremaine, I came to check upon you and you were passed out on the cushions." Dr. Seward held him up in his arms, and kept him close in his embrace when Daniel tried to fight against it, broken-hearted to be shown he was alone again and just as lost. "It is me, Doctor Seward, do you remember?"

"Yes I remember, I am fine! I was just... I must have fallen asleep." Daniel managed to break free of one hand at least and held himself away from the worried man. "It's past dinner, what are you doing here?" 

"My hours are often long, I was on an errand and came before I had to return to the Asylum for the night." 

"Well assure yourself on my health and sanity, good Doctor, I have no need of you tonight." Except when he tried to take another step away the activities of that day betrayed him. Blood loss and ebbing lucidity conspired to nearly lay him flat and it was only into the Doctor's arms that he managed to take himself. "Damned useless self." He whispered in a soft cry, feeling as if he might weep. 

The man hefted him up into his arms in the fashion of a true bridal carry and took him to the bed. "You're losing weight dramatically and you're dangerously pale, Mr. Tremaine." Laying him out the doctor's hands were gentle but perfunctory in a quick examination and obediently Daniel demonstrated his remarkably labored breath. How was he supposed to explain to the doctor he'd been bleeding himself all day long?! He'd sound like a madman, certainly. When he had finished with his examination of Daniel's breathing he then took quick hands to the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt. Giving himself up as a lost cause Daniel let his head fall back against the pillow weakly and allowed the Doctor to remove him from his garments. When down to his very base undergarments the man paused, eyes falling upon the ragged wound tracking up his thigh and higher. 

"I was attacked by a beast in Prussia." Daniel explained the mark away, the good Doctor could not begin to understand the kaernk nor the rest of the Baron's menagerie of horrors. Yet the man looked upon it with some secret glint of fearful recognition, as if he had encountered horrors too, beyond what most men could understand or comprehend. Not surprising when Daniel considered that the man worked as a doctor in an asylum, clearly the man encountered the greatest horrors that man was capable of. Without warning the Doctor placed his hand over the mottled flesh, him palm warm and callused against Daniel's tender flesh. "Stop." 

As if Daniel's skin had burned him the doctor drew away and then took a step clear of the bed, holding his hands before him he stared at Daniel in a stricken manner, before lowering his gaze in a mixture of embarrassment and humility. "I apologize, it is only that is looked like a wound I had seen before from a friend who has... who had passed." 

"Unless your friend was in the furthest reached of Germany it would not have been the same beast." Daniel assured him and the man nodded, but his words did not appease Daniel one bit.

"No, he encountered these creatures in Transylvania." 

He had never found out in the Baron's many papers, in his journal or further - where the kaernk had come from. Certainly he could not have imported a creature from his own plane of existence if he himself had been exiled from it, which meant that unholy invisible abomination had been here already. With trembling hands he covered himself up with his blanket. "You have seen me to bed, Doctor. I will stay here for the night and rest should it please you."

"You have a way of speaking that lends very little credence to your words, Mr. Tremaine." Doctor Seward was a handsome man in this light, his self-aware humility, the flash of grey at his temple, and the knowledgeable glint in his eyes. Daniel couldn't remember the before, but he suspected he'd always had a taste for the smart ones. Which meant the dangerous ones, and he was far too clever to admit a secret to the odd doctor who could not keep his nose out of Daniel's business. 

Catching the man staring at his bare throat in a way that Daniel decided he would really rather pretend was not lascivious or desperately looking for something, he pulled the blanket up the rest of the way and turned on his side, "I'm going to sleep now, if you mean to stay do try and be quiet. But if you leave, let my lights stay on."

Doctor Seward paused at the door, picking up his gladstone bag from beside the desk, "Are you afraid of the dark, Daniel?"

He did not question when they'd passed the propriety of surnames, he couldn't even recall the man's first name from the card Mr. Messan had given him, "Ever since I was a lad." 

"I could help you with that." Something in the man's voice told Daniel that he wasn't speaking entirely on the psychological and it sent a shiver down his spine so that he curled up tighter in the bed and did not relax until the door had shut and the man had gone. 

Still then he stayed in the brightly lit room completely still, awake and unresting, for long hours until sleep took him, and even then it was fitfull and when dawn rose he rose with it, feeling like something hollowed out and rotting. The breakfast table was empty now, later in the morning than most of the other boarders, but there was still half a loaf left so he took his time sluggishly smearing it with preserves. Holding the slice up in the dim morning light he stared at it, at the fractured reflections on the surface of the glazed preserve, the seeds of some fruit far out of season. Time seemed to stop for him but he knew it had not, but in that moment his focus was so sharply rendered, as if he was seeing with these eyes for the first time. 

He was suddenly ravenously hungry, and the slice stood up very little against his appetites. Nor did the remnants of the loaf, when that was done he took a handful of the fried vegetable peelings and ate that too, licking his fingers, lapping mindlessly against his palm. That too was gone in seconds so he pathed around the table and moved with single-minded focus toward a part of the house he hadn't yet been. 

The kitchen was older than any part of the house he'd seen so far, clearly from a version of the building that predated the rest of it, with a great big fireplace and an open larder. There was little by way of meat but a sick looking chicken hung from a string near the open door to the larder. He pushed it aside and came face to face with a kitchen-girl who screamed like he'd gutted her open himself, and so taken aback by this he nearly tripped again, but managed to catch himself on the door jam.

"Who are you?!" She shrieked but at least this was words and his frenzied brain could latch onto them. 

"Daniel Tremaine, there's no breakfast left." He grasped at straws, suddenly realizing ravenous hunger was not a reason to be wandering into a larder that did not belong to him. “I came to ask if there was anything more to eat.” 

Seemingly pacified by his contrition she gathered herself and put her hand to her chest, taking measured breaths. “How about some bread and an egg fried up? I can make you a little sandwich of it.” 

“Yes, please.” While she cooked he was made to sit in a corner of the kitchen, and he took this time to get a proper look at it all. 

It was indeed much older than the rest of the house, as if the boarding house had been erected on top of the kitchen of some relic. It reminded him of the kitchen at Brennenburg, albeit smaller, with the same hearty brickwork and wide arched infrastructure. There was a more modern stove and oven nearby to the great fireplace but still the young woman put her kettle over a metal bar in the fire in order to make more tea. 

Finally she presented him the plate and it was only his dedication to at least somewhat appearing sane and rational that kept him from snatching it off the plate and consuming it in two bites. As it was, the yolk broke open and he made a mess of his hand anyway, albeit this time he did not take his tongue to it to clean it off, instead dabbing the bread at it. When he had half-finished she set upon him with the first question that had no doubt been percolating in her head this entire time.

“Did you really sack a Russian castle?”

“Prussian, and no I did not, it was left to me you could say. I do not ‘steal’ I am an archaeologist, we recover artifacts-“ at the blank look on her face he chose his words better, “We find things that very long dead people left behind and through these things we learn about them and what their lives were like. But the things I brought with me are not quite that old, they are merely from a place I once lived for a little while.” 

“Corvis said you brought a fancy blanket and a chair with you.” 

So Corvis was likely the house-boy with the loose tongue. “It is a tapestry, something that one might hang on a wall, not a blanket. It is fancy I would say, would you like to see it?” There was no harm in ingratiating himself with the house cook, he kept odd hours and having access to food when he wanted it was worth giving a tour of Castle Brennenburg’s meager remains. 

She hedged, making a sound of thoughtfulness, clearly she was torn between two points, Daniel supposed there was a sense of impropriety in going alone to a man’s room in a house he already knew held ‘working’ girls. “You can bring a friend.” He sweetened the pot and it caused her to topple.

Nodding quickly she began to undo her apron, “I’m going to grab Mary.” With that she was gone, leaving him to himself in the kitchen. First he cleaned his hand the rest of the way with his kerchief and then he poked around, getting a better look at the understocked larder. Root vegetables were in plenty and that explained why there were always peelings from the night before to have for breakfast. His stomach turned now that he’d fed, how inhumanly he’d acted this morning, he must be more careful with his bloodletting practice for it was clear that it left him terribly drained. Further he felt slight nausea to remember that he’d not been alone last night. Dr. Seward was becoming a nuisance certainly, and if he came again he would most likely see that Daniel had not filled his apothecary order. 

But last night had also given him another revelation, where had the kaernk come from? Something to ponder on further, and perhaps some of the Baron’s more difficult coded notes would have an answer for him, only time would tell. 

He had just sat back down when the kitchen girl came in with another young woman. They looked identical to Daniel, both poor and working-class, with simple faces and plainly adorned clothing. Mary only stood apart from her friend by way of a scar bisecting her face, and Daniel took care not to stare at it directly. 

“Lisa you’ll get us a batty-fang-up, you certainly will.” Mary whispered and tried to tug her wrist free from the cook’s hand.

Lisa, the little cook, merely pulled her friend along and up to Daniel, “We want to see the arf-acts.” She said very matter of factly and Daniel rose up to lead them along, Mary quickly halting her complaints as curiosity overcame her. How easily they trusted and how easily they could have been preyed upon, but not by Daniel. He left the door open to his room for them and gestured to the tapestry - hung now on the wall thanks to his ministrations with the stone star. 

“What’s that?” Mary asked of the animal in the middle, both girls huddling close under the tapestry he’d hung beside the bed. 

“It’s a unicorn, cor yer a stupid one.” Lisa ribbed her friend in the side and both girls laughed together. Daniel felt a keen pain in him, in his heart, watching them. Some glass-sharp memory half gone surfacing, himself and a different girl than these, heads put together, laughing over some secret only they shared. 

Next they looked at the chair but neither of them moved to sit in it, and finally together they marveled over the stacks of books Daniel had begun to amass on the floor and the alchemy paraphernalia he had stacked up against one wall. “You’re a right learned man.” Mary nodded her head in a solemn way. “Could ye teach me to write my name?”

Lisa, seemingly shocked at her friend’s sudden bravery, shoved Mary in the arm hard and stomped a step forward, “Me first!”

“I would be delighted to teach you both how to write your names but I’m sure you have tasks you must see to? Why don’t you come see me tomorrow after dinner, you may bring whoever you’d like to chaperone you.” 

Daniel smirked to himself when they were gone with promises to return, his plot to assure himself a supply of food well underway. Cleaning up a bit from the mess of yesterday he took note of the furniture he would need on notebook page before setting himself up to pen a proper introduction to the university he had previously attended, and an offer to compile Herbert’s papers and texts if still required. Lenny had gone today, no doubt his supply of coin having dwindled with Daniel staying inside he had no choice but to go out and look for work. He left a note with Mrs. Forrestson for him, requesting his services on the morrow before he took his leave of the boarding house. 

He found a post easily enough and dropped off his letter but his next errand was significantly harder to achieve. Furniture for the room that was not too expensive and not too flimsy. He had walked himself nearly into lunchtime before he located a shop with low enough prices and high enough quality goods to be acceptable. Two worktables and a writing-chair procured he was on his way out after arranging for delivery when a fanciful wicker lounger caught his eye. It was clearly meant to be on the porch of some shore-side resort, made to luxuriate on and take in the sun and fresh air. 

It was the deep red of the upholstery that held him, the luxury amidst so much practicality. It reminded him of the baron and he was purchasing it before he had even fully considered the cost. It did not matter as much to him, he had to have it. It was not until he had left the store and the madness that had fallen upon him at the sight of the chair had passed did he wonder exactly how he was going to get it up the stairs and through the door to his room, he hadn’t even considered dimensions as he had with the tables. 

Consumed by worry for what he had potentially done by purchasing a lounge without the ability to keep it he wandered far afield and did not notice until the usual street sounds and unfortunate smells were replaced. He had come into a small pocket of the city inhabited by immigrants from further afield than simple Ireland or Wales. The colours and smells were reminiscent of the shattered memories he retained of Algeria and the trip there. He recognized some of the scratchings on a piece of clapboard as a simple menu and ducked inside the open door. 

Silence pervaded the space where before quiet voices and work-day sounds had played. The host stared at him as if he had magically appeared, and seemed to be waiting for him to just as magically vanish. He had the knowledge of three men's worth of journals but he was at a loss here, he knew he had developed a taste for food that stood apart from the fare at the boarding house but he had no recollection of when that might have been, and he could not put a name to what he wanted no matter the words that filled books in his ownership. 

"Hello, do you speak English?" and without a beat he switched to Turk, German, and a spotty Arabic and asked similar. The man seemed overwhelmed by him, and Daniel could hear a laugh from one of the tables behind him, as well as the scraping of a chair. From the depths of the room came another dark-skinned man but this one wore more standard English fare, a waistcoat and proper slacks. He drew a hand over the host's arm and the man turned to him and whispered something.

The newcomer smiled at what was said and then turned his attention back to Daniel. "You are fortuitous that I am here at this time, my friend." The man gestured with an arm into the depths of the restaurant, "If you are here to lunch, please be my guest and take it with me. I will order for you." The man was too polite to tell him that it was probably his spotty Arabic that would serve him best here and Daniel nodded, following the man back to his table. Seated at the low table the man poured him a glass of mint tea and Daniel was delighted to see that the carafe matched his.

"Thank you, I am in your debt. I think I have been sending my driver here to get me sup, I have one of these carafes I have yet need to return." Daniel sipped his tea gratefully while gesturing to the carafe still in the man's hand. "I am Daniel Tremaine, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The man laughed again, soft and throaty, a pleasing sound - "You are a peculiar Englishman. The pleasure is all mine, Daniel Tremaine, I am Haumed and you are in my uncle’s restaurant. Permit me the question, but how have you come upon your gift with languages?”

“I studied them in university as part of my field. I am an archaeologist.” He put his tea aside, knowing well he would need it for the food to come. “I apologize, I know my Arabic is not very strong.” 

“No, no, my friend do not apologize, it is a wonder to me that you know it at all. Have you traveled far?” Holding his hand up Haumed drew the attention of the host who stepped quickly up to him, in lowered voices he said something to the host before turning to Daniel, “Lamb or beef?”

“Lamb.” Daniel stated, waiting for the host to leave before continuing, “Not overly much, to Algeria and Prussia and the points between each.” 

“You are humble, very well traveled indeed. What museum do you work for?”

Daniel was not too surprised by Haumed’s understanding of the archeological business, the man was dressed too smartly for a foreigner for once. “I do not work for a museum, our expedition was privately funded. Currently I am as one might say freelance,” Daniel smiled a bit wryly, “Unemployed.” 

“Such a learned man as yourself must have many opportunities ahead of himself.” Haumed took from his front pockets a cigarette case and proffered Daniel one and smiled when he was declined. Lighting the neatly rolled cigarette on the table’s candle he took a deep drag, “Was it Algeria where you picked up your tastes?” 

“In all honesty I cannot remember, but it must have been. Where do you take your employment Mr. Haumed?” 

“Just Haumed, I am an importer of goods for which one might find hard to access or that are exotic to Englishmen. Silks, spices,” here he grinned and his teeth glinted in the deep tan of his face in an attractive way, “and artifacts of the kind you are certainly acquainted with.”

Daniel found there was a bit of hypocrisy when he thought about it these days, certainly before-Daniel had not seen the similarities between grave robbing and archaeology but Daniel of the present day could and he knew that Haumed was talking of the latter. Perhaps to some and maybe even to Daniel as he had been before, the admission would be a scandalous one, but Daniel was as Haumed had estimated - a very peculiar Englishman. 

His face brightened in subdued excitement and he thought about possibilities and openings in the future. What Haumed might be able to obtain for him in fact, he was certainly not in any position to travel abroad and dig up things on his own, but purchasing them from a smuggler was another matter entirely. Not that he would ever refer to his new acquaintance as a smuggler though, that would be rude. 

“I may have need for services like that, but I will need time to determine what I am looking for.” 

Haumed laughed softly, seemingly amused by Daniel’s excitement, “You do not look as my usual clientele looks. Your tastes will prove to be exciting I can already tell this from you, Mr. Daniel Tremaine.”

“If I am to call you by Haumed alone, you must call me Daniel.” He was expecting the laughter now, and smiled as the man opposite him shook his head in wonder. 

“You are very exciting already, Daniel. You will find me, or find a way to contact me, should you ever require - here in my Uncle’s restaurant. I have no-,” here Haumed drew off as a waiter appeared with a large platter of dishes, all full of bright colours and devastatingly delicious smells, “calling card, but you will find me.” 

Daniel had no memory of the food, he had some written accounts of meals in his journal, but the actual consumption of it was not something he had seen fit to scribe during his travels, as such he was completely guessing how to eat any of the food provided. Yet he seemed to guess correctly, for Haumed either chose to mimic him, or he had done it right. Taking the food up in scoops of his dominant hand he ate it in careful bites. No cutlery had been provided regardless, so there was only one's own tools to use.

Smiling Haumed studied his technique and then moved, demonstrating how best to gather the steaming lamb and sauces up by way of steamed grape leaves and rice - without burning himself. Together like this they made quick work of the food, and spoke on various 'relics' they each had seen in their work. Haumed telling him of a carved stone idol he had recently seen while Daniel told him about the stone star he'd taken from Herbert's study. After lunch they were served little slices of sweet bread and Daniel ate his fair share of it, cheeks flushing at how bemused Haumed looked over his sweet tooth. 

When Daniel moved to pull out coin to pay for his lunch Haumed put his hand upon Daniel's and refused the money, "No my friend, you have found yourself my guest this time, maybe I will let you pay next time?" Haumed laughed as if he had told a joke, and together they walked toward the door, "I feel as if your presence here today was very fortuitous for me, Daniel. I can sense that we will meet again soon." 

"I do not take much stock in fate but I am certain I might have need of your services in the future." Daniel smiled self-consiously, he wasn't even sure if he could afford Haumed's services, but well there were always ways to make money. He was musing on this when Haumed took him by the shoulders and pressed a kiss to his left and then to his right cheek before leaning in, breath warm against Daniel's ear.

"You will find me a most willing business partner as too I may have need of your services in the future." His voice was a whisper, a secretive thing as they stood in the doorway leading out of the restaurant. Pulling back Haumed gave his shoulder a squeeze, "A man in my field is sometimes in need of a good Englishman with the proper papers to authenticate his wares." The twist of Haumed's lips told Daniel that he might be aiding in a scam if he was to authenticate some of these 'wares' and while the before-Daniel's career would be thrashed by such scandal, this Daniel was without such qualms or career to ruin, and he held his hand out to Haumed to shake the English-way. 

"I do believe we can help one another, Haumed." Daniel may have sealed a fate he didn't even believe in, but it was not a career in archaeology and academia he was after these days. No, third ever 'human' extradimensional traveler, that was quite a different career than archaeology. It was too bad Daniel of Mayfair had never picked up any classes on physics, he supposed that would have made the Baron's mathematic notations make more sense. Or perhaps they were even too alien for the current fashion of sciences. 

"Please send your driver anytime you have need of a filling meal my friend, we will provide, and I will call upon you soon." Haumed waved him away and Daniel found himself loathe to go, but knew he must as sooner than later his furniture would be delivered and he did not quite want to see what Mrs. Forrestson would do with his room if allowed free reign with the mover-men. 

Rushing back as best he could remember his way, he was so occupied in his own thoughts and sense of purpose that he did not see the man barreling straight toward him. Big and burly he nearly bowled Daniel right over, and Daniel would have hit the ground had he not taken a grip of the man's sleeve to keep from toppling. This further hindered the man and he lashed out at Daniel, striking him on the shoulder to get him to loosen his hold.

Taking a stumbling step back Daniel's back hit the wall and he watched in subdued shock as the man was tackled around the middle by a blur. After a moment of watching the struggle of two men on the ground Daniel recognized the other individual as a copper. Now with a small crowd watching the struggle, some cheering it on, Daniel felt an amping and all encompassing anxiety, a sound like a lighthouse horn reverberating through him. 

The copper's blonde hair stained red and Daniel's reality snapped.


	6. Ephithelial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leon Kennedy circa RE 2 but you know... in Victorian London. I do not pretend to be a dignified fanfic writer. You're not gonna just fade gracefully into the background are you, you overactive golden Labrador of a man.

It took three of the onlookers to get him off the man, and he took a clump of hair with him when they did. When it was all said and done he was sat beside the copper in a tavern, the other man holding a rag to his bloody nose while Daniel sat still for the tavern girl wrapping his knuckles. 

"Don't fight much yeah?" The copper asked, grinning through the blonde still staining his face and Daniel had to look away from him to quell the intense feeling of nausea the rolled through him at the sight and how he wished it was not so familiar. Some of his memories he wished beyond all faiths would stay buried and yet he suffered still, trapped in this purgatory of Daniel of Mayfair's worst works. "Oh, I didn't mean to offend you, I'm sorry. It's just you fought like a girl."

The tavern girl gave the copper a dirty look and did not refill his mug, leaving shortly after with a gentle pat to Daniel's bandaged hands. When she'd gone the copper took his hand with his free one and turned it this way and that, "I could teach you. If it weren't for you I'd certainly be in the dirt right now." 

Daniel flushed and turned to look back at the man and his oddly sympathetic face and despite the blood his rather endearing countenance. His bright blue eyes were very earnest and certainly he actually meant to teach Daniel how to fight if he accepted, which he most definitely would not, “No, it’s quite alright, I’m not often in situations that would necessitate the use of violence.” 

The copper looked a little put out by this, but quickly bounced back, “Well then, if you ever change your mind, just ask.” He was gone then, leaving his empty mug and a coin to pay for his drink. Daniel only realized when he was leaving himself that he had not introduced himself and as such had no idea who it was he was meant to ask if he ever wanted to learn how to fight properly and not like a ‘girl’. 

The journey back to the boarding house was uneventful, thankfully, but when he got in Mrs. Forrestson took a look at the blood on his front and brought herself up from her chair behind the little cage. “Give that vest here, if we don’t take to the stain now it will set.” Before he could say anything else or even protest she had come out of her ‘office’ and was prying him out of his coat and tackling his vest, pausing only to take a look at the cloth bandaging his hands. “What have you been doing little lord? You have enough money to pay other people to fight for you. Certainly Lenny would run someone over with his carriage for coin.” 

“It was not a planned duel good lady, and please! Stop! I’m capable of undressing myself!” With his outburst she stood back, her curvaceous form bent like a spoon, one hand on her hip, holding his coat over her other arm. When he handed her his waistcoat she handed him his coat back. “What are you doing with it?”

“I used to be a laundress before I was married, I’ll bring it along up to you when I’ve got the blood out.”

“Oh, thank you!” And then before he could forget, “I have furniture arriving sometime today. Most likely very soon, I’ll be in my room awaiting the delivery.” 

Mrs. Forrestson looked overjoyed at this, “Rents due tomorrow, if you want to lent a month in advance I’ll take three days off.” 

“That will suit me just fine, write me up a bill and I’ll bring the money tomorrow, I will need to go to my bank first.”

Mrs. Forrestson looked at him with a half-smile, “You are indeed an odd one staying here when ye’ve got a bank and everything Mr. Tremaine.” 

“This building suits my purposes.” He shrugged and left her to clean up the blood that wasn’t his, in honesty he would have thrown out the poor garment if she hadn’t gotten to him first, he could not stomach the sight of another person’s blood anymore. 

Closing the door up tight in his room he stretched his knuckles beneath the cloth wrappings and felt the crush of pain as the wounds reoppened from his paltry defense of the officer earlier. Raising his hands up also rose the light level in the room, the gas lamps flaring and the fireplace sparking to life from dead embers. Satisfied at the brightness of the quickly warming room he sat on the bed and unraveled the bandages from around his left hand. 

Not only had he split a number of knuckles but his tearing and clutching at the man, a thief he’d learned, had left his fingers in a sorry state. Reaching under the sad pillow of the bed he pulled out the soap-stone star and held it, running the cold surface over his broken skin. He watched in the same amazement as the first time it had healed him, his skin stitching up and recovering, unmarred. He had tried to place the star on his mottled leg and the scar there, as well as the whip marks on his back and thighs but it’s strange abilities did not appear to heal old wounds. 

Laying back on the bed he rested the star on his chest and the pain that had settled there since the fight, but his vague hopes were fruitless, and in fact the star seemed to make the pain worse, so that he had to roll over, coughing into his still-bandaged hand. Blood speckled and then a clump of it in thick mucus came out against his palm. Cringing he waited till he could breathe again and then cleaned it up, throwing the remains of his bandages in the fireplace. 

Taking to the Baron’s writings again he surmised that the soap-stone star was some sort of tool used by the younger members of the Baron’s otherworldly race, to train them in these skills of bloodletting. The use of vitae had been understood and known to the Baron, used to not only somehow protect Daniel from the Shadow (while damning him) but also to power the relics - opening up the portal that sent the Baron home, and sent Agrippa to his beloved student.

It was likely that the star was meant to be used to heal the practitioner’s victim, not oneself as Daniel had been using it. With the Baron’s centuries of life and the faye-reminiscent glamor he had placed upon himself, it was certain that he had also probably been sustaining himself on vitae in some way as well - with no injury or illness having touched him for all that time. Certainly there was some element of long-livedness to the race of which the baron was from, but did that entirely explain his strength and youth-vigor hidden behind the lie of his elderly visage?

Daniel had to sit down before the fire and put his face in his hands for a bit, breathing measured breaths and thinking of anything but the painting of the baron and how it so cleverly consealed the truth of the man, how there could be no denying that Daniel of Mayfair had fallen in love with a man and that the truth of it all - how that man was no earthly man - had broken him to fractured pieces along with the betrayal of being left behind by all that he had come to depend on and desire. It chased him now, that even knowing the truth of it, he had gone mad enough to understand he still loved him now - inhuman as he was. 

Maybe that was why he was able to use the stone star now, his humanity had been stripped by him in that castle, by the Damascus Rose and his own culmination of understanding, uncovering far more of the truth than before-Daniel had dreamed and yet still the love for the Baron remained. A sane man would have murdered that creature and undone the wrongs wrought by it. Daniel was not sane, and he was coming to understand he was also not a man, not anymore.

So caught in his mental break was Daniel that he did not hear the first knock against his door, nor the second, when it opened he was unaware until the chill of the hallway snapped against his shirt-back. Unfolding from his cower he stood in one graceful unfolding, turning to see Lenny at the door looking concerned. When he gave the carriage driver a half smile the man’s tension released. “Did Mrs. Forrestson send you up to fetch me for the delivery men?”

“You guessed it right, Mr. Tremaine. I also got word you’d be needin’ me tomorrow?” 

“Yes, I need to visit another address from my book, I will need you to wait for me, but not very near to the establishment, and please Lenny, just call me Daniel.” Now was good enough a time to request his first name be used, Mr. Tremaine felt entirely wrong and Haumed had compounded it by how naturally he used Daniel’s name, it was all he had of himself for a time and he was intimately attached to it. 

“It worries me to have you walkin’ the city alone,” Lenny obviously struggled a bit, “Daniel. Why don’t you just have me take you right there?” 

“Because it is a sanitorium and I would not put you in a place of disease.” Daniel laughed softly at the stricken look on the poor driver’s face, brushing past him to take the steps. 

“So it’s true, ye’ve been seein’ that doctor for your illness?” Lenny followed him a step behind, careful not to push into him, but he also did not treat Daniel like a leper. “You aren’t going to see about bein’ institutional are you? I heard they only send people to those places t’die, and ye’ve got a lot of life left in you! Sprightly if I can say so, sir! Daniel, sir.”

“No, no I’m looking for record of someone, for someone that was sent to this place.”

Lenny nodded, pacified by the promise that Daniel didn’t seem to be intending on leaving them, and as such probably cutting off his pay anytime soon. “While your new goods are bein’ delivered would you like I should go round and fetch your supper?” 

“Yes, that would be good of you Lenny.” He’d reached the foyer then and divided his attention between instructing the delivery men and paying Lenny to go fetch his dinner. When Lenny had gone it was much easier to give the proper instructions, perhaps in part aided by the fact that the men seemed to have seen the state of his coin purse and were hoping for a sizeable tip if they did a good job. 

Just as Daniel had surmised it would be, the lounge was indeed nearly impossible to fit up the stairs and getting it in through the door scuffed the wicker and scraped a large line of wood varnish down the top edge. But finally it was in and set up near the fireplace and Daniel was quite content that he would finally no longer be required to sit on the floor all the time.

He did tip the men well and saw them to the door, where Mrs. Forrestson caught his eye and called him over to her little cage-nest. Handing him over his waistcoat he marveled to see that the blood was indeed quite gone from the fabric. “How did you manage that?” He asked her in genuine interest. 

“Cold water and rock salt, lad. Then you lay a cut potato on the remainder of it and repeat as needed.” When they were left alone she leaned in closer, “This was in the pocket.” She deposited into his open hand the crystal that had formed from the coal earlier, a shrewd look in her otherwise glassy eyes. “I’ve a safe in my office, with the amount of coin you show ‘bout you might make use of it. I understand if you don’t trust me none, but the floorboards in your room are tight and the brickwork not overly loose. If you keep your coin somewhere, I wouldn’t keep it in your room, Mr. Tremaine.” 

Daniel flushed and tucked the lump of rock into his slack’s pocket. “I will keep that in mind.” He had lied before when he said he’d need to go to the bank, of course he’d been keeping most of his wealth in his chest in his room, “Thank you Mrs. Forrestson, I may take you up on the use of your safe, soon.” Not for the entirety of his wealth no, and her hints on the floorboards and brickwork had given him idea enough on where to keep another part of it. How naive he had been thus far, and how lucky he’d been that the boarding house Lenny had brought him to was not quite a den of iniquity. He knew there were ‘working’ ladies somewhere, but he’d yet to see a single one of them. Clean was indeed a good descriptor for Mrs. Forrestson’s establishment. 

Going back upstairs he tested the bricks around the fireplace till he found one of suitable looseness, and then he took the unused silver dagger to it, keeping his ‘personal’ blade clean for future use, there was no point in giving himself some blood infection from the accumulated grime to be found on these walls. The masonry took a bit of work to loosen all the way but when he managed to pull the brick free he found a suitable enough space to press some bank notes within. 

“Here we are keeping secrets.” He glanced at the red chair with it’s decadent upholstery from the castle, “You were an awful role model for such an impressionable young mind, dear Baron.” Turning back to the wall he began to fit the brick carefully back into it’s place. 

“Was I really?” The voice cut him through time and memory, his vision swam, and he was plunged at once into darkness and absolute light, quivering and mad, he turned slowly, his whole body pivoting to face the chair. 

There was no one in it, there was no one else in this room and no one in that god-forsaken chair and he should have taken it as a sign to throw the retched thing out but instead he lowered himself to kneel before it and pillowed his head on his arms crossed upon the seat. 

"I never really knew you, not really, only from the papers you and I left behind, yet I love you still. I'm not doing this to find you, I - I'm doing it because I don't belong here anymore, I haven't felt like I have, not once, not since the antechamber. Maybe that's when the change began but I have a feeling it was a long time before then. Maybe it was in Algeria, or maybe it was you - falling in love with you. I'm going mad here, if I stay here they're going to lock me up and then I'll never get out."

He shut his eyes tight and pressed his face against his arms, feeling the hot wet fall of his tears dampening his shirt sleeves. "I hate you." But he didn't. He could never hate him as long as there remained this love for him festering in the ache of his sternum, cut out his heart and even then this hellish affection might still remain. 

He fell asleep like that, but awoke when he heard the knock on the door, he allowed Lenny in with his supper only to see to his displeasure that the man was then followed by Dr. Seward. 

The doctor gave him a soft smile, "Do look a little less happy to see me, I might begin to feel like my presence is wanted." 

Setting up his dinner at the small table he'd set between the lounge and the fireplace he ignored the way the doctor looked at the assembled fare with a bemused eye. "I'm not even paying you, so I do not know why you insist on continuing to see to my health." He dug into his dinner, purposefully eschewing proper manners perhaps to make his point. 

"Mr. Tremaine, I have seen much in my tenure at the asylum I run, and I am also not usually a doctor one calls for ailments of the body. That you had my card upon your person means that one of my friends or associates, past or present, gave it to you." He leaned himself up against the wall beside Daniel’s bed, his dark eyes shrewd and amused in the manner with which they watched. It made Daniel not want to eat in front of him, and already he was self conscious of using his hands to eat - except one was supposed to with this food! 

“Should that mean something important to me?” Daniel frowned up at him, “You are most vexing sir.”

“Let me speak plainly then, you’re a molly, are you not my boy?” 

Daniel, who had no memories of his own, Daniel who was barely functioning on the best of days and who had confessed deep dark secrets to a chair not even half an hour ago, somehow despite all of this knew exactly what a molly was, and face colouring a brilliant shade of red turned to his food and refused to talk, or eat, or move - or do much of anything but be humiliated and enraged. 

“You see Daniel, my personal card is normally only given to those who understand I am not of the view that men who practice love with other men should be institutionalized. As such they are able to come to me with their medical needs without fear or retribution. I do not suppose you were told this when you were given my card.” 

Of course Mr. Messan had only his best interests at heart and had sent him to someone who would keep his secrets, just as he had advised Daniel to do himself. He wondered then if it was so plainly obvious about himself that he was bent toward the other inclination, if that had been obvious his entire life and had been what had made the before-Daniel such a target for cruel men. Would the butler have sent him to a doctor who would not protect him? Some of his vexxed attitude melted and he looked up to the docttor, who still stood against the wall looking gently amused and kind. 

The man was handsome in a way, dark hair and greying temples with neatly groomed facial hair, and when Daniel glanced down the length of him and then landed on the wedding ring on his finger the doctor seemed to notice and his hand clenched. 

“A happy marriage comes from knowing one’s partner and their needs and fulfilling them or allowing them to be filled elsewhere. Perhaps a more modern notion of psychiatry, but one I find serves my marriage well.” 

Daniel fastidiously cleaned his hand off on his kerchief, “If I may speak plainly as well, are you implying an interest in me?” 

The doctor gave a self depreciative smile and ducked his gaze, “Were that I not your physician, entirely. But no, I am merely interested in your well-being Daniel, you remind me of a friend, the same one who bore markings similar to your own.”

“The one who had been to Transylvania?”

The doctor nodded, such a melancholy smile upon his face, “Yes.”

“Did he ever tell you what manner of creature attacked him?”

Here the doctor considered Daniel and he could tell that the man was looking to see if he could in fact trust him, Daniel had given him nothing worth trusting he realized, this relationship of Doctor and Patient had been largely one-sided thus far, and now knowing the doctor’s true intentions towards him, and the man’s self possession and curved apetities, he found he felt a little guilty for behavior thus far. But despite this Dr. Seward seemed to find some secret hidden in Daniel’s face for he nodded to himself.

“He said that it was invisible and dwelled in shallow water, that it nearly drowned him and left him with.a scar similar to your own. I asked him did he not mean it was simply hard to see and he swore to me no, it was unseeable.” 

Daniel nodded, and pushing his food away he took himself to one of the book stacks, sorting through it. In curiosity the doctor followed after him, standing a good pace away to preserve Daniel’s personal space, finally. It seemed that admitting a taste for men had left the doctor with an awareness of his activity toward Daniel, and he now wondered if the man had known he was subtly flirting with him all along. 

Finding the book he thumbed through it quickly, and took himself closer to Doctor Seward so that he might see it, although by the look of blank understanding Daniel inferred that the man did not read German. “Don’t worry Doctor Seward, I’ll read it for you.” 

The man laughed softly, “My mentor was German but I was never any good at the text, speaking it and not well it the extent of my proficiency with the language.”

Finding the page Daniel pressed his finger down the center to crack the spine and readily keep his place while he read.

“Another kaernek in this place, an invasive species not that our kin care. Weyer hopes I will use it’s saliva to break his mentor’s prison. I have locked it up in the basement.” Daniel paused in his reading, “The Kaernek is what likely attacked your friend, they...” how to not sound like he was entirely mad, “They are very exotic.” Daniel swallowed a lump in his throat before continuing.

“They are invisible to the naked eye, hunger for meat of any kind, and live in shallow waters. There are different special properties to the flesh and byproducts of the creature.” 

The doctor formed his lips around the word, testing it silently, “This kaernek, you encountered one in Prussia that had been imported?” He shook his head then, “It is nearly impossible for my mind to wrap around the existence of a creature completely invisible and were it not for my sincerest respect for my friend, I would think you were lying, but I know it to be true.” 

“To escape it I jumped from wreckage pile to crate and more, and threw meat far away from me when I had no other choice but to go into the water.” Daniel paled at remembering the encounter, but continued, “It caught me, I had to encounter it multiple times and I... there was nothing I could bring myself to touch to feed it, and I had to chance it.” He didn’t notice his hands were trembling until the doctor took the book from him and put it down, taking Daniel’s hands in his own and holding them gently. 

“Your nerves are shattered, Daniel. You must rest and put this out of your mind.” 

“I could not possibly sleep now, I couldn’t.” He tried to tear himself away from the doctor, but the man squeezed his hands gently and pacified him into remaining still before him. 

“Have you ever been prescribed laudanum?”

The laugh that tore out of him was enough to startle the doctor into letting him go, and he flinched at the sound of his own voice, how off and wrong it was, how twisted into something nearly unrecognizable. “I was dependent on it in Prussia and before, my former Doctor prescribed it to me to help me with recurrent nightmares.”

Doctor Seward tilted his head in curiosity, “Why are you not still seeing this physician?” 

“He was murdered.” 

The matter of fact way in which Daniel stated this caught Dr. Seward off guard and he blinked in surprise, “Oh, I see.” He took a further step back, only to reach out and gently take Daniel by the arm, moving him with purpose to sit on the lounge. “I could prescribe you something weaker but if you were regularly taking laudanum it may do very little.” 

He knew he would not have made it out of the castle if it had not been for his dulled nerves gifted by the laudanum, and perhaps he would be able to retain a semblance of sanity if he was given access to the drug again. 

“I can prescribe you a dosage for the apothecary.” Here the doctor glanced around the room, “And another vial of cough medicine for your tuberculosis.”

Daniel flushed, looking up at him and feeling much like a child who had been caught out. “It won’t help.”

Doctor Seward gave a soft sigh and looked down at him, taking a step away so that he was not quite hovering, “You know this to be fact? Did you go to medical school?”

Daniel gritted his teeth and spoke before he could curb himself, “I have seen inside enough men to know I’ve no taste for it, and that I’m not suited to medicine.” When he closed his eyes tight and wouldn’t open them again the other man gently took him by the chin and turned his head up. 

“You are one of the most intriguing men I’ve ever met Mr. Tremaine.” Doctor Seward whispered to him, so close that it could only be construed as intimate. “If I could get away with it without bruising your delicate wings, I would pin you under a piece of glass and lock you up to study you all to myself.” It was an admission that put ice in Daniel’s veins, “But I know that would destroy you. I hope that you might come to trust me enough to help you heal. I fear though, that you do not want to heal at all.”

Moving on, was that not what he should be doing? 

He only had to consider it for a second to know he could never move on, just as he knew he had to get out of here, out of this entire plane - to retain his sanity. He knew too much of the secrets behind it all, behind civilization and reality. He knew too much to remain in London under the Queen’s rule when he knew how very little monarchy meant in the scheme of things. His eyes had been opened, against his will and want, and now they would remain so. Moving on would be attempting to forget, to settle, to find a new path - but there could only be one path for Daniel of Mayfair now. 

“Thank you, I will take the orders to the alchemist, or if you distrust me, I will allow you to bring the filled orders to me. I will take them, as prescribed by my physician.”

The doctor let him go with a soft laugh-mixed-sigh, “You are so willful a creature, Daniel Tremaine.” He moved to his gladstone placed by the door and wrote a new order for Daniel, placing it on his desk instead of handing it to him directly, “Who wrote that passage on the... the kaernek, is what you called it?”

Daniel’s voice trembled, he could not help it, had he spoken the man’s name aloud in all this time? Had he given it voice and not just kept it in his heart to spread it’s poison? What would speaking it do to him, he did not know, “Baron Alexander of Brennenburg.” Even through the tremble one could not deny the light of mad passion in the utterance, Daniel shook all the way to the marrow of his bones, felt it ache in his breastbone. 

Doctor Seward did not speak what he surely knew, what he could tell from the way Daniel nearly fell apart before him, ‘beloved’ could have easily replaced any noble title the man held. “I will be back shortly with your medicines Daniel, please do try and finish your supper, I apologize for interrupting you.” The contrition in the man’s voice was honest and deep, Daniel felt guilty for being so over-emotional, but he knew without needing memories to tell him, he’d always been that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly- victorian slang for a homosexual.


	7. Stray Italian Greyhound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual Content Ahead (also tentacles)

He was overseen in his first dosage, Dr. Seward assuring him it was just to make sure Daniel was measuring the proper dosage. But as soon as the man had left Daniel took another dosage of the laudanum and laid in bed, tossing and turning until he finally slept. 

Just as his sleep had been in Brennenburg, he was taken deep and caught on the thick syrup of laudanum’s spell. His dreams were no longer plagued by the shadow but he was not without guilt or fears, and they often recounted his time trying to escape the castle, or worse the snippets and pieces of broken glass that comprised his memories before the Damascus Rose. 

Tonight he felt instead a deep weight laying over him, a heavy quilt of warmth and not the sick-sweet taste of fear. 

The Baron sat in the chair before the little fire in his boarding house room, dressed all resplendent in gold and crimson, his face was the torn and dragged thing - that horrible rendition of madness drenched into bloody canvas, but Daniel looked upon the void of his eyes and the maw of his mouth and was moved to weep for love. Beloved, beloved Baron, and the man smiled at him, in the glint of his empty eye sockets and the way his otherworldly body opened up for him. Daniel fled to him from the bed, burrowing his face into the silk-touch of his robes, the long hanging strands of his dirty-white hair. 

Arms in number that were inhuman and wrong wrapped around him, covetous and hungry in the same way that Dr. Seward had looked upon him, but where the doctor’s gaze and touch felt wrong, here Daniel was brought to near frenzy for how desperately he desired this. Almost crushingly those appendages dragged Daniel tighter into the fold of otherworldly affection. When he blinked up at the Baron and the rest of the room it was to see his rooms in the castle instead of at the boarding house, in his drug-addled mind this was fine, more than fine. Let all the horrors of before, all the loneliness be replaced by this greeting instead.

“Do you not see me as I am, Daniel? Is your mind so dulled by that drug you are dependent on that you do not see me?” The baron spoke to him without lips, without words. Directly he spoke into Daniel’s mind, breaking down walls with disregard for the tender nature of Daniel’s sanity and even through the drug the stripping of his barriers and breaking of his psyche caused him to cry out in a mixture of pain and rapture. Startled the Baron held him tighter and gentled his hair back from his face. 

Daniel would be confused by how much shorter it was, were he in his right mind, but all he felt was himself coming undone in short order. “My lord, I missed you so.” He confessed, eyes fever-bright and the baron continued to pet him, his hair stroked back, his throat, and neck, and then down the center of his chest.

“I was only gone a short while. You are so very affectionate tonight my dear, I see that you have taken more of your infernal medicine than I advised. No wonder the truth of me has not set you into convulsions.” 

Daniel did not know how to kiss the maw of flesh before him, but he would figure it out, and wrapping his arms loosely around the baron’s shoulders he pulled himself up the long line of the man’s chest to pepper the face of him with soft affection, feeling arms go stiff around him and then the hard line of the baron melted, held him tighter, and tilted himself, he felt lips against his, knew it was a half-truth, but he did not care, the baron kissed him patiently and with warmth. 

A first kiss and yet Daniel thought perhaps it was not. He was no longer dreaming, or maybe he was. He had only ever been dreaming, and when the baron drew back it was a human guise that looked at him but Daniel could see the truth of him flickering beneath the surface. “Oh,” the Baron whispered in so awed a way, “You are not what is here with me now, he is gone - the soul has fled the body, and who are you but a trespasser?” The baron’s old face twisted into a cruel but delighted smile, “Hello Danny, I have missed you.”

“You left me.” Daniel mourned, pressing his hands to his lord’s face, holding him still to kiss him again, two hands held Daniel’s shoulders - and two hands that did not exist but did they held his hips in a talon-like grip of hunger.

“Where are you? London?” The baron asked him, moving his lips to nip and mottle the flesh of Daniel’s delicate throat, “Oh you will get me in trouble, do you know how hard it is to deny myself your affection when you so desperately need me, but it’s not you who will be seeing these marks tomorrow, Danny. Stop wriggling so.”

He had not noticed the way he was writhing closer and tugging, pulling, at the baron until called on it. “I need you.” He keened, yes desperately, and spiraled down further into his own madness, when he bit at the baron’s lip he drew blood, and the man growled into the kiss, the grip on his hips bruising hard before he yanked himself back.

“You will regret tempting me.” And the baron picked him up, carrying him to Daniel’s bed in the castle, it’s beautifully deep covers, the soft decadent plush pillows. Daniel arched off the bed right into the baron’s multitude of hands, and when other reaching things joined them, writhing masses of void-black flesh that slicked like eels over his body there was a look in the baron’s face as if he expected Daniel to finally break into hysterical screams.

When instead of screaming he grasped one of the snaking things in his hand and brought that pulsating flesh to his mouth to lathe it with hungry tongue the baron snapped, tearing Daniel out of his clothing, leaving it in strips and scraps, his nice silk bedshirt the baron had given him rendered useless. The grip on his legs that pressed them apart did not need to be so strong and punishing for Daniel readily spread them for him, his cockhead swollen and red between his held legs. The baron stared down at him, towering between his legs, looked at him with a look of such desperate madness and need that Daniel knew he must be dreaming this all. No one had ever looked at him like that, as much as he needed it. A dragon gazing upon it’s hoard of gold, longing and loving, he was coveted. 

The member that spread him open was wet and slick and perfectly devised to open him up. As the baron entered him he could not think of reality or dreams, there was only the press of the baron’s need claiming him. He sobbed out under the man, clawing at his shoulders and back, not to stop it but for more, and he whispered it like a heathen mantra, a spell to summon forth more pleasure, “More, more, more.” 

The baron snapped his hips and pounded into him, causing Daniel’s spine to arch off the bed, the sobbing hysteria of his voice so like his lapses of sanity but this time it was not horror that spiraled him into madness, pleasure taking him higher and higher. 

“Oh Danny, you are so beautiful. So perfect, I have missed you so much.” 

Too long separated, too long, Daniel felt like he would come apart at the seams, like the broken parts of him were cutting open the decaying flesh of his body, he thought he might die for this feeling of completion, and then what felt full became almost excruciatingly so, another thick part of the baron was entering alongside the shaft of his manhood, slick as if weeping, Daniel recognized it as one of those black appendages. 

He cried out and broke apart, coming hard between them as that wriggling thing entered him too, hungry jabs, needing. The baron panted above him, petting his hair back, holding him tightly by the hips, spearing into him and it did not stop. Daniel recalled the warning, that he would regret it, but he could never. The burn of being forced open further filled him and he spiraled down, this was what finding god was like, this was faith and rapture. 

The baron spent inside of him, he could feel the push of the man’s seed deep within, but when he pulled his length free another writhing mass of flesh replaced it. Pressing kisses to Daniel’s face and chest, nipping gentle bites to his throat, the baron’s other parts forced their way into Daniel, over and over again, “I am sorry my love, we have missed you so much. They need you too.” 

Grasping out at the bed, Daniel was only taken by more of the dark slick things, like tails or the arms of an unholy sea creature, his wrists captured, and grasping again he found himself roughly stroking two at a time as others fought over him. Slipping into his gasping mouth, into the open spread of his abused body. It was horrible, terrible, it was absolutely perfect. Daniel wanted it to last forever, even as the pleasure of it in itself turned painful, his body overly sensitive and yet still stroked to higher places, a ramping up with each eager member pushing into him.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and he floated then on the feel of his hardening member, the thrust of those needy things inside of him, in his mind he could hear the Baron’s voice, breathless in pleasure, praising him adoring him, lavishing upon him all the affection he had so desperately wanted as before-Daniel that he could remember now. His grip tightened on the thrusting bits of flesh and they gave up more of their slick spend, he was soaked with his own sweat and the unearthly excitement of the Baron’s many appendages. 

They worked on their own Daniel felt, rough or gentle, every one of them it’s own entity nearly apart from the Baron and yet still part of the man. Daniel gave them his love by spreading his legs till they ached, by greedily taking whatever he could into his open mouth and whimpering when the excited slick caused one or another to pop free. 

His second orgasm caught him off guard, hard and bright, and the Baron shuddered above him, as if he could feel it as Daniel did, as if he experienced it with him. More seed soon followed to fill him up and Daniel could feel it being pushed deeper and also out of him with each thrust of the Baron’s pleasure. 

The man cursed softly, looking down at Daniel, and he looked up at the Baron, watched the old face flicker between young and unearthly, and nothing at all - “Danny, oh I forgot how perfectly you take us.”

Yes, Daniel wanted to say, but his mouth was full, he would always take him, take anything from him, take it till it killed him. Again the Baron became nothing above him, dashed out like a reflection in the surface of broken water, Daniel cried out as the feeling of being filled was replaced with vacant emptiness, and then again he was filled and the Baron was above him thrusting into the tight abused passage. 

“You’re slipping away from me, my little dancer.” The baron was still petting him, still praising him, thrusting into him and Daniel clutched to the many parts of him desperately, as if just holding to him would keep him there. “I have to stop else the soul that belongs in this body knows what we’ve done with him.”

“No, No! Fuck that naïve little murderer, don’t!” Daniel could weep, the anger, frustration and absolute pique, he was aware he was perhaps not altogether there, not just being in two places at the same time but also in being well - the laudanum has certainly lowered his inhibitions and emotional stability. “Baron please, just- please!” 

As if driven by Daniel’s plea the man above him thrust into him again, displacing the void-black tendrils till it was his cock within Daniel again, the piston of his hips moving in a strength no old man could hope to achieve, Daniel thought he might break apart, that the baron would tear him in two and he screamed out the pleasure of it, his hands clawing at the tendrils and the bed, at the baron’s shoulders. 

“No one has ever needed me the way you do my little bride, I will give you all I can - may you remember this, for as long as I am able. I need you too, Danny, I do.” The Baron bit into his neck, into the stretch of his throat, bit one of his shoulders. Daniel sobbed at the feeling of broken skin and he came - again. 

Vision white and then black. He jerked up silently screaming in his bed, the tight windows of the boarding house in London showing him the dawn light, the fire burning embers.

He sobbed, silent screams, tore at his arms, at his clothing and the bedclothes, tossed and turned until he had fallen out of the bed, and he thrashed himself around on the floor until his unmarked body was scraped and bruised by the furniture. A hard knock came at the door and he finally lay still as the coughs came, as the tantrum he’d thrown replaced the air in his lungs with wet syrup. He mourned and the knocks quieted. Whoever it was had gone away, leaving him to cough himself to death.

He didn’t die, in time he managed to drag himself to the table where Doctor Seward had left his medicine and he downed a dose of the cough suppressant as he lay on the ground in his sleeping clothes. As his anger and sadness passed it was replaced with embarrassment. 

He found himself full of hatred for himself again, the weakness he held inside, the dreams the laudanum brought. What fanciful hallucination, and he could not even bring himself to despise the man, just himself for still fixating on him so strongly. He had never shared carnal pleasure with another but the fantasies were there and the understanding of it all - still what he had dreamed up was sick all of itself and yet he could not bring himself to be disgusted by it. Not when he connected it so strongly to the Baron.

Perhaps he should be disgusted by the alien biology he had attributed to the man, but even then he could not really, he had enjoyed it far too much. The attention, the desperate fulfillment, he had been wanted. That was what angered him the most, he was not wanted, and yet he could not get over it. 

The desire to be that bride that the Baron had sacrificed so much to return to, it was all encompassing, to be something wanted and want in return. His father had not wanted him, Herbert had not wanted him, the Baron had not wanted him - second choices or just not good enough, he was nothing, had always been nothing. 

So far it seemed only a married Doctor who dabbled out of wedlock with men was the only option and he would not be that, he would not be the moth under glass. Taken and kept secret and alone, grasping for scraps of desire and affection. He was not the Daniel who had left London, but he was the Daniel who returned to it against all odds, and he would not settle. 

He tended to his scrapes and bruises with the soap-stone star and used his bloodletting to light the lamps up further, the pain was dulled somewhat by the laudanum still sluggishly running through his system and he was vexed to see that his lowered suffering caused less payout for the blood-loss. He had to light the lamp by the bed on his own with matches and that further put him in a dour mood. Finally cleaned up and dressed he put out the lamps and fire and took himself downstairs to check and see how much of breakfast was left. 

Cold bread remained, but the preserves he’d been so dependent upon to make it palatable had been scooped clean. There was half a plate of fried vegetable peelings too but his stomach turned in memory of the greasy taste and his inhuman hunger. He took himself a piece of bread and labored in chewing and swallowing it as he made his way back to the foyer of the house. To his pleasure Lenny was awaiting him, sitting in a chair and chatting away with Mrs. Forrestson’s house boy, the one with the penchant for gossip. 

“Good morn’ Daniel!” Lenny greeted him, thankfully remembering his request to be called his first name, standing he fixed his neck kerchief, yet another brightly coloured bow, Daniel idly wondered if he was trying to court someone with the added plumage, like a bird of the wilds. 

“Good morning Lenny, Mrs. Forrestson.” The house boy had beat a hasty retreat, and Daniel was mostly glad, he could not remember what name the cook and her friend had given him. 

“Waistcoat right as rain I see.” Mrs. Forrestson greeted him by way of a nod.

Flushing with pleasure he drew his hand down where the droplets of blood had been, “Yes, thank you ever so much.”

Lenny looked lost but politely did not ask questions. 

“Is your carriage set?” Daniel directed his attention back to the driver, who nodded and led him outside in the sudden chill of the morning. Where the past few days had been more clement, today seemed to remember it was autumn and as such the day was overcast and cold. Daniel bundled his traveling coat tighter around himself and settled in the carriage, surprised when Lenny reached under a bench to take out a blanket and lay it tenderly over his legs.

“I brought it out when I felt the morning air, I thought ye’d need it Mr. Daniel.” He patted Daniel’s knee, “Ye’ve got an address for me?”

Daniel brought one of the letters from his satchel and read off the address to the Sanitorium, when Lenny had closed the door and the carriage began to clatter over the stones he turned his attention to the letter attached to the address, unfolding the paper tentively - careful of the abused folds, how often this letter had been read even before Daniel had tried to recover his identity through pieces of paper.

_ Hello dear brother, _

_ Danny you would be so happy to see how gently they treat me here. Father said that I might write you one letter upon the insistence of the nurses, who knew how deeply I missed you. Thank you for writing me before you left to Afrika, will you write me again and tell me of all your adventures in the tombs? I looked at a map and Mrs. Lind helped me to locate where Algeria is, you will be so far away!  _

_ I hope you will not be scared in the tombs, I am certain they have special gas lamps for the work there, surely otherwise no one would be able to see where the treasures were!  _

_ I have been studying the books you left with me, one day I will go on adventures like you and maybe I will be your secretary, father cannot keep you from seeing me forever, surely. I miss you Danny, no one here tells stories like you and they pull my hair when they brush it, even when they are trying to be careful. Everyone is very kind but they are not you.  _

_ I wish I was well and I could go to Algeria with you. Please take lots of notes and sketches so that you can tell me everything exactly as it happened, I would miss nothing! _

_ Love forever to the stars and back, _

_ Hazel _

He stroked the name, the soft curve of the calligraphy and the delicate loop of the z, and he found himself crying so that he had to close up the letter lest his tears blotch the ink. Rubbing at his eyes his cheeks stung from the cold and wet and he stared out the window from then on, watching as the city slowly changed around him and became sparser. By noon they had finally traveled the entire way into the near countryside to London and Daniel had Lenny pull his carriage far enough away from the Sanitorium to be walkable but keep the man out of the way of the entire facility. 

It was not the dour place he had imagined it to be, instead a large brick wall gated off the estate from the rest of the countryside and pure air swept through well tended gardens. Some windows were open in the big brick building but most had been closed, probably due to the colder weather. It was a beautiful building, indeed it almost resembled a castle and had one long porch that pathed the entire front line of the long structure. Daniel was hailed before he even had made it halfway up the path, a man in an orderlies uniform catching up to him, leaving two women and a man to play croquette on the big front lawn alone. 

“Hello, are you here to visit a patient?” The man was a bit out of breath just catching up to Daniel and he made it easy on the man by stopping to face him directly.

“No, I’ve actually come as the survivor of a past patient I’m looking for information on her, and my family. I was away in Algeria when she past.” As soon as Daniel said Algeria the man’s face lit up bright with recognition.

“You’re Danny! Danny Tremaine! You’re Hazel’s Danny!” The man took Daniel by the sleeve abruptly, his excitement overcoming him, “She read your letters outloud so often I feel like I know you already!” 

Daniel flushed at the greeting, feeling an odd moment of deja’vu - did he not just encounter this near same greeting at Herbert’s home? Before he could say anything in response the man let him go with a soft sigh, “No one came for her belongings, just an order to send her body to Mayfair. We kept it all, are you here for her things? It doesn’t surprise me that it’s you, she loved you so much.”

Daniel nodded mutely, moved before words and he was silent as the orderly led him up the path to the sanitorium properly, still chatting along between stretches of sad silence. He told Daniel about how loved Hazel had been by the staff, one of their younger patients and always so upbeat and hopeful. How many dreams she had and the stories she told them about her brother and his studies. He did not tell Daniel about her last days, but Daniel found himself glad that they were here in this place and not in that house in Mayfair with a cruel and domineering father. 

“If I might be so bold to ask, how was the excavation in Algeria, did you find treasure?” 

“In a way yes, it was hot and I got very lost before I finally made it back to London, I am sorry no one came to claim her belongings, I certainly would have before now had I known they were still here.” The distaste he’d felt for their father only increased at the treatment of Hazel’s few precious belongings, these were the things his sister had held dear and the man had left them to be cast out in the trash 

“She would be happy to know they went to you, I know it.” The man held the door open for him and the warmth of the foyer settled fast around them, the big space kept heated a great big fire. Awaiting was a lady-nurse at a desk by the door and she greeted them with a distracted nod, most of her attention was taken by a stack of paper before her. 

“There you are Andrew, the doctor was asking after you, he wanted to know how the water therapy went with Mrs. Pastor.” She paused to look at Daniel then, “Are you a new patient or a visitor, I’ll have to pin a badge on you.” She frowned at the idea it seemed, of pinning a badge on someone, or perhaps it was in just moving, she seemed very set into her chair behind the desk. 

“This is Danny! Hazel’s big brother!” Just as the orderly, Andrew, had lit up at the realization so too did the nurse.

“Oh! You are quite the celebrity I’ll let you know, Mr. Tremaine.”

“It’s Daniel, Daniel Tremaine.” He didn’t tell them only Hazel had ever called him Danny, his odd fantasy last night had muddied up his memory so that he was not even sure if that was right anymore or not. He could not recall the Baron ever calling him anything but Daniel, but yet there was now a question in him - it was not as if his abused memories were at all complete anyway. Even when she'd been alive, their mother had not ever called Daniel by a shortened form of his name, and when she spoke to him in affectionate a manner she called him her 'little soldier' which was less than fitting as the years wore on, when she died of hemorrage from birthing Hazel she had taken what softness there was in the household with her, so that Daniel had to compensate.

It was not until then that he realized he could remember his mother at all, and as quickly as this memory of her nickname for him surfaced it faded, ephemeral between his grasping fingers, lost to the void of burned out memory. 

"Well Mr. Tremaine, your little sister was a dear gentle thing and so excited every time a letter came from you." The nurse then stood and reached out to grasp his hand and hold it in greeting, "It's rather an honor to finally get to meet you." 

Daniel flushed delicately and Andrew the orderly grinned, "Can you believe it Cora? And he's still got dust on him from his travels." He pointed down at Daniel's well worn boots, "See! A real adventurer." 

Core took a step back, her big skirt and apron swishing with her steps, and he felt the burn of embarrassment as she took in his entire state of clothing. The travel coat and worn boots that ill matched with the finer things Frannie had made him to change into. His embarrassment was soothed by the look of awe on her soft face.

"Blimey, you're a real man, out there on the continent."

He fidgeted, "Not for awhile." He could have been answering to either part of it.

Andrew drew Daniel away by the elbow, "I was just going to take Mr. Tremaine to get his sister's belongings, if you see the Doctor would you tell him I'll be coming right away?"

Cora the nurse nodded, but her doe-faced fawning had turned to a quiet and somber mode, "I am sorry 'bout your sister Mr. Tremaine, she was such a sweet little girl. I'm glad she survives through you."

The phrase was an odd one, certainly it was yet familiar to him, not that he could recall it ever being uttered directly, but he understood the manner of the sentiment. But that any part of Hazel survived in him was a novelty, he could not possibly imagine that the little girl who had inspired so much love, who had written to her brother and awaited his responses with such excitement, could in any way remain in the husk of a man that had come out of Brennenburg alone. Even the thought of the murderer who had tortured to save himself was so far removed from the light of life she seemed to encompass. Yet he was the only one to come here after her death, possibly the only one who would have ever come, clearly their father did not care enough to fetch her last earthly belongings. 

Maybe that made him worthy of being the spark that remained. He had come back for her, even though it was too late, he had come back for his sister. 

They had come to a store room in the basement before Daniel had finished pondering the nature of his mourning, and Andrew pulled a chair up for him to sit in while he took to sorting through the man labeled and unlabeled boxes and trunks lining the room. 

"Now this isn't all past patient belongings, we keep their luggage here when they arrive after they've unpacked it in their rooms. If a patient passes, usually we then pack it all back up in the luggage and someone from the family will come around. We very rarely have an unclaimed belongings, our patients are well off you know? Always someone there wanting to pick up the remaining items. Might be something valuable."

No, their father with his dismissal of the house staff would not have sent Hazel to her death bed with anything of real value, and according to Daniel's own journal the man held very little respect for Daniel's wealth in books.

"What will be done with the belongings if no one ever claims them?"

The orderly looked confused by this, "I just assumed they'd stay here." 

Daniel fell silent then and listened as Andrew sorted through the man boxes and trunks, wondering if the man understand how long forever could be, the building might last but they would all die, then who would remember which trunk was old whatserface's and that would be that, someone would throw it away, or sell it under the table. "Here it is!" Cut through his musings and he was drawn from his inner monologue to focus on the orderly once more. From a corner the man dragged a small trunk and Daniel was struck by the similarity there was between this one and the one he had drug out of the ruins of Brennenburg and back to London with him. Clearly part of a set, and it came to Daniel then that they must have been purchased together. This was the sister to his own trunk, and now he was collecting it. 

He came forward as Andrew took a step back, and kneeling before the chest he carefully undid the clasps and buckles. Pushing the top up he peered down into the paper lined depths. Letters were carefully tied with a bit of ribbon, and while nothing cloth remained there were a number of shiny rocks and fossils. Daniel lifted the letters up and beneath them he found books and journals, a thick and well-loved sketchbook. There were a number of small carved animals of different rock substrates and then in a satchel was a collection of dried herbs, still giving off a delicate scent even after the years. 

He carefully tucked everything back into the trunk and scrubbed at his face with his sleeve, Andrew shifted behind him, sensing that Daniel was taking a moment to mourn. When Daniel stood the orderly was at his side, “I can carry this out for you.” 

Shaking his head Daniel bent himself and labored with the leather carry straps of the suitcase. “Its no wonder they’ve not figured out a way to put wheels on these yet, don’t you think?” 

Cora was not at the nurse’s station when they went past it again and the people playing croquette on the lawn had gone inside, a storm seemed to be brewing. Andrew followed him all the way to the gates of the Sanitorium, and before he could begin to bring it on down the road the man paused him and bade him put the luggage down. Out of breath and confused Daniel did as he was told and then turned to Andrew expectantly, a question on his lips until the man grasped his hand and squeezed it.

“She had nightmares, terribly nightmares, toward the end of it. We wrote over and over to her guardian and he never came even when we sent a telegraph in the last hours. I can see and I know from your letters you would have come for her, had you been able. I just want you to know that we took care of her, and she wasn’t alone.” 

Daniel who had felt alone for so much of his life, who had felt so alone and empty this morning, could only feel relief at this. That his sister had not been alone. She had not had the family she should have had with her, and if before-Daniel had a spine in him he would have visited her or maybe even taken her away with him. Daniel as he was now, he would have taken her away, damned what his father said or the law decreed. Even with his weak watery memories he knew he would still love her and care for her better than that man ever did. 

“Thank you Andrew.” 

“Be careful with her things Mr. Tremaine, we burn the cloth but the illness might remain on her other things.” 

Nodding Daniel stooped down and picked up the trunk once more, “Nothing to worry about there, I’ve already caught it.” He perhaps relished the look of crestfallen hopes on Andrew’s face, but he then felt guilty almost imediately after, “Not to worry, I’ve a very attentive doctor, practically hassles me to keep healthy.”

“I’ll keep you in my thoughts Mr. Tremaine, are you sure you don’t want me to carry that for you to your carriage?” 

“No, I’m not that far gone, thank you. As well I wanted to leave as little contact with the illness and my driver as I could.” 

Andrew nodded but he did not go back to the Sanitorium right away, Daniel could feel the man’s eyes on his back for quite a long time after, until he turned the corner leading to where Lenny had left the carriage. As soon as Lenny saw him labouring with the trunk he rushed down where he’d been granging the horses and took up the chest. “Oh I wish you’d a’asked me to pick this up on the way out, Mr. Daniel.” 

Collapsing against the side of the carriage, Daniel gave a breathless laugh and pressed his hot face against his arm. Even with the chill day he was beset with heat, probably running a fever. “Help me into the carriage Lenny, and lift that trunk up to ride with me. I do not want to risk it falling off the top, the contents belonged to my sister.” 

Lenny helped him into the carriage, practically lifting him up all on his own, and he put the blanket on the bench next to him within reach before then putting the trunk beside him on the floor, “I’ll just take a minute to get the horses back hitched up, then I’ll check on you before we set off. Do you need a thumb of brandy for the journey? It’s a long way back.” 

“No thank you Lenny, I believe I will be fine.” He settled into the bench seat, letting his spine curve to that of the shape the back of the bench took. Head falling back against the upholstered surface he stared at the ceiling and measured his breathing. He perhaps should have taken the brandy offered but he worried in his maudlin mood he would only drink the whole bottle or flask. When his vision swam a bit he closed his eyes and it was in this manner that Lenny found him, throat bared to the ceiling, his breathing even. 

The man gently put the blanket on Daniel’s lap and then tucked it around his legs, Daniel startled looked down at Lenny, who was still mostly outside of the carriage, and down by his knees. “You pay well sir, and you’re kind Mr. Daniel. I know I’ve only been driving for you for a week but I wanted you to know I’ve got your back. You don’t have to worry when you’ve got me driving for you. Next time you be sure to send around for me.” 

“I would not ask you to endanger yourself for me.”

“No, you don’t need to ask me nothing Mr. Daniel, I’m your man.” Lenny patted him on the knee and then drew back, “You need something and I’ll get it done for you.”

With the door shut and the carriage in movement again he bent forward and opened the trunk again, picking up the bundle of letters. With delicacy he untied the bundle and set it in his lap, running the green ribbon through his fingers a few times to feel the soft false-silk of it he then put it down and reached up, untying the ribbon currently in his hair and then replaced it with the green one from the letters. “Was your favorite colour green because of me, or is mine green because of you, Hazel?” 

The letters and tiny carved animals had no answer for him for they remained silent and inanimate. He began to sort through the letters till they were put in an arrangement by date instead of the unsorted bundle they’d been tied together upon Hazel’s passing. Picking up the very first letter he found it was from a time that far predated his journey to Algeria and with baited breath he took it forth from the envelope, hands quivering as he uncreased it, emotions choked up in his throat. 

_ Dearest Hazelnut, _

_ I have made many friends here in university, and they have all helped me to settle into my dormitory. As an underclassmen I even play at serving another student as if I were a valet, it’s teaching me so many practical skills even past what I learned from Frannie. I am very popular in my ability to darn, for instance, could you imagine popularity born from having such a simple skill?  _

He wrote about his classes, asked her about her tutors and made sure she found the books he’d left for her. There were mentions of university gardens and luncheons on the yard outside his dormitory. Favorite subjects were discussed and between the sentences Daniel could read his own loneliness. Whatever letter had been sent in return had been lost, before-Daniel had kept them somewhere else it seemed, or maybe she had not been allowed to respond. In the next letter he found his answer.

_ My Sweetest little Sister, _

_ I know father had forbade you to write back to me, just whisper your responses into the night sky and I will find them tied to star-light, you have always been so much braver than I about the dark, but I will submit myself to good Nodens to hear your voice again! _

Daniel’s cheeks stung with the chilling of hot tears from the cold country air, reading further down, he felt himself breaking again for the distance and forced separation, but while for before-Daniel this was a gradual descent, in him it was all at once, to have love and camaraderie ripped from between his fingertips. Of course there had been no letters from Hazel to Daniel until she’d been dying and sent to the sanitorium - their father couldn’t forbade her anymore. 

_ There are a number of heathen gods we have learned about recently, you would scarcely believe all the different religions in the world, Hazel. One day I will tell you about them all. _

No, he never would get to tell her; another letter, another broken heart.

_ Professor East has taken an interest in my paper on the natural progression of languages to combine in culturally significant locations. He has even removed me from his usual curriculum as he wishes me to devote this semester toward researching this topic! At first I actually thought he hated my paper - he had returned it with so many red marks and citations to works I had not read. But then he took me aside after the lecture period and asked that I continue it. He told me that my work as it stood would never pass muster upon my peers and that I must apply myself.  _

_ I will do my best and I must confess to you dearest sister, I am terribly eager to please Professor East - I feel my calling changing from museum docentry to that of a true archaeologist. Would you believe the idea of your brother working in the dirt? I can hardly fathom it and yet my dreams are filled with that idea. Perhaps I am meant to discover and not just teach. _

Daniel placed the letters back in the trunk, everything felt too heavy and thick around him. He was certainly taken by a fever and his bones felt barely able to move, sluggish as he was in his thoughts and actions. Perhaps it was the mire of the letters and his laudanum dreams of the night before but he could hear his young-voice asking what was wrong with him. Only after a second did he realize that the voice had not asked what was wrong with him, but her.

He remembered standing outside a shut door, his youthful body far over towered by the largesse that was his father. The man was talking to another man, one of good bearing with nice clothing, and Daniel thrust himself into the conversation, “Will she be better soon?” Kindly the man smiled at him, Daniel thought of a name to fit him but nothing came through the sluggish dullness of his mind nor memory. “Will she be alright?”

“You will see her greatly recovered in the morning, dear boy.” The man’s voice faded away and Daniel held his chest with one hand and his head with the other as pain wracked him. 

It came in bouts, how could he have ever forgotten. The terror of waiting for the next sick bed day, when he would wait by her bedside as she coughed or wasted away. Then her body would pull through enough that she would be well for a time longer. Months would pass at first before a low point. Over time months were whittled down to weeks. He knew that eventually that would become days but by then Daniel was away in his studies and did not witness her decline. 

He listed sideways on the bench, pulling his legs up onto it and he closed his eyes to try and stop everything from spinning away so violently. 

He must have slept, although he did not remember falling asleep, only waking up to Lenny worriedly calling his name. He pushed himself up from the bench, smelling London before he could see it. 

“You’re sick, I’ll go fetch your doctor.” Lenny said, helping him out of the carriage.

“No, he won’t be able to do much. I’ll take some of the medicine he left and lay down, I just need to rest.” His voice was rough and his chest felt as if a heavy rock had been laying upon it for hours. Biting down the hysteria threatening to overcome him at the sudden strike of another memory, he pushed his way past Lenny and into the boarding house. As if chasing him, biting like a dog at his heels, was that memory, and he knew there would be no way he might ever outrun it. 

Another voice, it’s deep cadence and baritone town both arresting and unfathomably terrifying, “The stones do not need to be heavy when you chose them, Daniel. With the application over time of small stones in large numbers, the same affect can be achieved.” 

He coughed, retching, on the upstairs landing and he covered his mouth to keep all the horror in, his own screams his own manic laughter threatening to undo everything, to sever the very fabric of his tentative reality. He kept it in until he was in his room and then he was vomiting into the unused chamber pot, retching up his meager breakfast and when that had come up and he was still coughing, thick blood and bile splattered the copper pot. 

He could feel the smooth shape of the stone in his hand, the rounded edges, the cool surface. He could feel the Baron’s hand at his wrist, guiding him, teaching him where to place it to do the most good. For them, not for that poor damned soul under the crushing weight of dozens more stones, tied - nay shackled - to the rack, so that he could not struggle and displace the artifacts of his torture. A syrupy sweet feeling of pride welled up in Daniel at the benevolent smile his benefactor graced him with.

Daniel in London, Daniel with the taste of blood on his tongue, chased the memory with a double dose of laudanum and a swig of the cough medicine. He collapsed in bed fully dressed and laid there weeping until the drugs hit his blood stream and he knew no more of torture and the voices of men who were gone from this world. 


	8. Movement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel overdoses on the laudanum, surprising absolutely No One.

“How long has he been in this state?” Voices, impressions, time had very little meaning and he was awash in a sea of cotton or muslin, the gossamer of it all weighing him down, keeping him from harsh reality. 

“Will he,” murmurs, secrets, why couldn’t they all just leave him alone, “where do you mean to take him?”

Movement, clatter of metal feet on stone, a great moving beast in the heart of the castle. Gears that turned with deep water, pulling him apart, pulling him into pieces. Blood on old bricks and blood on his hands. Where was he? Who was he? He must remember- there were some things he musnn’t ever forget. He had to remember who he was.

“Daniel of Mayfair.” A man read off a piece of paper and Daniel sluggishly rose his head, eyes finding it hard to focus, hard to see much of anything, everything swam terribly, “Daniel Tremaine?”

“Yes?” Daniel asked softly, his throat burned, he felt like he hadn’t spoken in days. 

The man looked startled to get an answer and paused in his actions, slowly Daniel could focus down, until he saw that the man was holding a clipboard with a checklist upon it. He then turned his attention to himself, finding he was wearing naught but a night shift and that he was in an unfamiliar bed. 

“What’s your name?”

“You just said it,” Daniel retorted, thickly - his tongue felt like moss, “Daniel.”

The man left quickly, leaving Daniel to gather himself in the room alone. He had no idea where he was, the room was nondescript, the bed was cheap and mass produced, there was a single window in the stone wall far too high for Daniel to hope to look through even if he could manage to get out of the bed right at that moment. 

He was contemplating calling out for someone when the door opened again. Dr. Seward looked very different when he was dressed in the accountments of his profession and not just in the finer clothing he wore in his personal life. He struck a chord in Daniel that had always been drawn to authority figures and older men. But at once Daniel also realized he had managed to get himself into some terrible amount of trouble. If Dr. Seward was in his work-best that meant Daniel could only be in once place.

“Do you know what happened, Daniel?” Dr. Seward asked him in a gentle and understanding manner, shutting the door behind him, leaving them in privacy.

“I do believe I may have overdosed on laudanum.” Daniel said, feeling the flush of embarrassment and the curl of humiliations lance through him. 

“You did, an occurrence I can only blame myself for. I heard your reaction when I asked you if you had experience with it, I should have asked you your history.” Dr. Seward pulled a chair up toward the bed and Daniel - chastised properly, brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly, “Oh Daniel, no please. It is not your fault.”

Before the doctor could touch him Daniel jerked away, pressing his curled up body to the wall the bed was put up against, “You know it is, I do not heed directions, I do not follow prescriptions, I am a willful creature incapable of listening to reason.” 

“Daniel,” Dr. Seward drew back his hand even as he reached out in other ways, with the gentle glance of his sympathetic eyes and the soft lull of his voice, “calm down, you are working yourself into a state.”

Daniel reached out suddenly and took the Doctor’s still outreached hand in his own, “You have to get me out of here Seward, do you hear me? If you make me to remain here I might never recover, I might never get out again.”

“I need to evaluate you, Daniel. The constable reported you had attempted suicide.”

Daniel could see the doubt and worry in the doctor’s face, the inclination that the man really understood, “I did not, if you would visit me every night to soothe your fears and conscious I would permit it, I would even open my bed to you if you would only,” and here he stressed his words most directly, “Get. Me. Out. Of. Here.”

Doctor Seward signed him out, and stood with his physician’s coat over one arm as they came to the door. Daniel was out of his mind - of the drugged variety - for nearly the entirety of his stay at the asylum, but still he could not get his skin to stop crawling and his thoughts to settle until they were shut up again in his room at the boarding house. Mrs. Forrestson had at least seemed delighted to have him back.

Hazel’s trunk had been brought up, that was probably when he’d been found out of his gourd. 

Dr. Seward moved to sit in the red chair by the empty fire as Daniel lit the lamps, only stopping when Daniel made a high sound in the back of his throat. Instead he sighed and sat upon the heavy trunk Daniel had brought with him from Prussia. 

“You were heavily dependant on laudanum?” The questions began, Daniel could only be thankful they were not being asked of him from the confines of that madhouse. He knew he was in honesty no better than those other men, that he was worse actually, but he had one thing they didn’t - the truth. His madness was not a delusion, it was not a hallucination, he was mad because he knew too much, had been too far into the dark reaches. 

“I was, I am. Perhaps. I did not account for the affects of the cough medicine compounded with the dosage, but I also took double your prescribed amount.”

“You’ve built up a tolerance to it, how long has it been since you regularly took it?”

“A few months, maybe. Things were a little hazy for a time after Prussia, and getting out of Prussia. I was very sick for a few weeks directly after, I suppose it was from my body’s reliance upon the laudanum.” 

Doctor Seward rubbed at his eyes, and when he next looked at Daniel it was with symapthy and guilt, Daniel wanted to dash it off his face, to tear it out of his eyes with his teeth, it was not right, it was not the look he hungered after, that one of soft exasperation and control. “What happened in Prussia, Daniel?”

“I was abandoned.” 

“By the man whose journal you read to me from?” 

Daniel shuddered, bone deep, it rolled through him like a dam being unleashed, the loss of ages, he was flooded up with it. “By myself.” Mr. Messan had warned him, he knew better he did. “Damascus rose when harvested fresh and dried to a very particular constituency may be distilled in such a manner that when drunk the draught can cause temporary short-term memory loss in the imbiber.”

He spoke as if he was reading from a botanical text, as if he was reciting a passage, but this work was in no book known to man, it was a method that had come from a world not their own. Doctor Seward looked on as he spoke, watching him with mute fascination, some spark in his eyes that told Daniel the man knew the truth already.

“Could you think of a man under your care, just one man in that place of healing, who would not when given the option do anything possible to forget the atrocities they had seen or done?” Daniel looked at him, looked through him, yes, yes! There was the horror of understanding, the dawning of intelligence, “One man who when the drugs provided him could no longer dull the madness inside had resorted to desperate measures to forget?”

“When given a few drops, one might forget a week or a day, when you take the whole bottle?” Daniel sat down upon the edge of his bed, “You forget everything you ever knew. You ask me what happened in Prussia, Dr. Seward? I fear that I cannot recall.”

“If you lock me up in that tower of yours, if you pin me under the glass it will not just bruise my wings but dash me to splinters of dust. I have to be out here, I have to gather what that bastard left of himself, what I left myself to find, or I will never be complete again. Do you understand what I did to myself?”

Dr. Seward gravely nodded, “Would that I do not. I understand what was done to you, and why you cannot rest and heal.” To rest would be to lose himself entirely. The man stood and walked carefully toward Daniel, he measured out a very precise dosage and bade Daniel to take it before he collected the laudanum bottle into his pocket, leaving Daniel no choice but to adhere to his strict dosage. The Baron had never prohibited him in such a way, at least Daniel thought as such, it made sense though, that man could better manipulate him if he was half-mad and muddy in the brain. 

“Lay down Daniel, let your nerves rest. You have had a messy two days. I will be back tonight and we will take dinner together.” 

Daniel, feeling the syrup slow relief of laudanum hitting the painful snap of his brain, stretched out in the bed, his hands stroking back against the cover, his long hair mussing up atop the sad pillow. He watched through half-lidded eyes as Doctor Seward stared at him with a hunger that might be seen on a man who had not eaten in days when presented with a feast. Daniel cast his eyes to the chair, the chair he’d forbade the man to sit in with his displeasure, and he moaned, a sound so thick and deep he would have been surprised it came from him, if he were not washing away on a sweet tide of unreality. 

When Doctor Seward touched the center of his chest, stroked a line down the length of his waistcoat, Daniel writhed on the bed, his back arched up and into that touch. He felt trembling hands unbuttoning him, freeing him from the fever-heat of his clothing, but it was in that tremble that he realized the wrongness of it all. No, those hands should be assured, should know precisely what they wanted and how to take it. Daniel came up from the deep depths and grasped Dr. Seward’s hands, holding them between them he smiled in far too sharp and clear a way, for the man gulped and nearly jerked out of his hold.

“Now, now, now,” Daniel laughed, soft and husked and heard the madness in his tone, the way he spoke was from deeper darker places, he thought he had escaped them, but one could not run far from themselves, “Would you take advantage of a patient, dear Doctor?” He rose his hand to curl the man's tie in his loose grip.

The man jerked back again and stood, “I will return tonight to make sure you’ve eaten and to see to your dosages.”

Daniel’s laughter followed the man out, and he fell into himself with the sound of it, how freeing it felt to let it out, and it carried on for what seemed hours, the soft breathless sound of his own mania. 

When he slept it was fitful, as he knew it would be, and when he woke up he felt sicker than when he’d come back from the Sanitorium. Like he had been dragged through Brennenburg all over again. When Dr. Seward quietly entered his room around six it was to find Daniel sitting before the fire on the lounge, reading from the books he had left for Hazel all those years ago. Without even looking up to the man Daniel began, “I must apologize for my behavior, I would never imply you would break your Hippocratic oath, Doctor.”

Sitting down beside Daniel timidly, the doctor began to bring forth a picnic of sorts from his gladstone, sheepishly he spoke, “No, you were right, I fear I acted in a manner unbefitting your physician.” He paused, before he found himself again and moved to uncork a bottle from the bag, “You were not seeing me at first, and I wanted you, I wanted to be what had seen you like that, so undone and open.”

Daniel laughed, snapping his book shut and gave the doctor a wry smile, holding his hand out for the half glass of wine the man had poured him, “Believe me when I tell you, dear Doctor Seward, you would rather die than be that man.”

They drank and ate cold chicken and better bread than the fare Daniel was becoming accustomed to. They spoke on medical matters, Daniel asking him about the emergence of different methods of treating tuberculosis, the standard progression rate of the disease. He knew that the detached and methodical way he spoke of it alarmed yet intrigued the doctor, when it fell to matters of surgical treatments and the medical examinations in study that the doctor had witnessed, his understanding of human anatomy further intrigued the doctor. 

“I would have guessed you for a medical student many times tonight, had I not already knowledge that you studied in the histories. You are a fascinating and well learned man.” Dr. Seward looked at him with another wry look of bittersweet longing and resignation, “That man is very lucky to have your affections, it galls me to know he left you." 

“They were unreciprocated anyway, the man, I-,” Daniel put down his wine glass, lest he accidentally drop it and dash it to pieces on the ground, “He was married. Wed long before me, and his sole greatest desire was to return to that woman.”

Dr. Seward gently took his hand and squeezed it, “I am sorry.” In the man’s sympathetic grip he found his firm resolve again and he gave the doctor a self-conscious smile.

“I will always be the second choice, even when unwanted.”

His words seemed to have stung the doctor, like just that reminder alone had caused his hand to burn, for he let Daniel go, only to look at him with such mournful contrition, “Just as others have hurt you, in my intentions, however hard I try to deny myself them, I too would only take you as second in my life. I am sorry Daniel, you deserve better than being someone’s second choice. Were that I had met you much earlier-,” here Daniel cut off the doctor.

“Were that you were younger, you would still find me resisting in your affections, I am through with romance, the Baron cured me of that particular childish reliance on fairy tales.” He took a measured breath and then smiled at the doctor, again a wry and dry smile, no real joy in the tainted curve of it, “Or I suppose if I am in a fairytale it would be the traditional kind, where the faeries have teeth and take blood sacrifice and I wandered lost in their realm till I forgot myself entirely.”

Doctor Seward poured him another half-glass of wine, “And whose host in time cast you out to return to the world of men, forever after marked as other for your time spent with the faye?” 

Daniel laughed and tipped his head back, letting the warm wine flow down his throat, let it settle in his chest, and send a tingle through his spine,. Draining it in one deep sip he put the glass down and fell back onto the cushions of the wicker lounge, “Precisely Doctor, and this,” he rose his hand to curl a finger through the long copper fall of his hair, “Is the souvenir that the faye left me with, have you ever encountered in your work a shock so deep and an injury so severe to the mind that it changed the hair color of the recipient entirely?”

He had meant the question in jest but the doctor dropped his glass from trembling hand, his eyes haunted and his lips thinned. Daniel’s mood shifted swiftly, and he pulled his legs up beneath himself as the red wine ran across the floor, like blood reaching out for him, like the Shadow's thick fleshy appendages, like the Baron's red-clad arm in the deep lower floors of the castle. "What is wrong?"

The doctor whispered something so softly that Daniel almost didn't hear it and then he looked to Daniel with such an intense and deep look of hurt and longing, but as Daniel had not seen him when he lay in his laudanum induced haze earlier, the doctor was not seeing him, not really. "My friend, he- I was once in a fairytale too, Daniel. One not all of us escaped from. The man who bore a scar like yours, who may have been attacked by that kaernk just as you were, who came from far away back to London. His hair changed like that, as if overnight, grey and white. As if he had aged years and years in a matter of hours. It came after him, that beast." 

Dr. Seward grasped Daniel's hand in his own still shaking ones, ardent and passionate, "I will not let what happened to him happen to you." 

"The kaernk is dead, Dr. Seward, nothing is coming after me."

"What do you remember about that Baron, Daniel? What did he do, what were you made to do in the castle that was so horrible you would rather forget your entire life than recall it?"

"I did it to give myself strength to fight back, to recover a part of my lost sanity. I- I won't," Doctor Seward grasped his shoulders, nearly shook him, held him still and cut off his words, his denial.

"I do not believe he left you behind at all, how could any man, when given your adoration and loyalty, your bright intellect, how could they leave you behind? The man was a monster and he will return for you, his hold remains even now, you are enraptured by him, charmed and taken." Doctor Seward moved one hand to take him by the back of the neck. "We failed, I failed, to save one man from a monster, if I can help you I will." 

Daniel was stunned into stillness, the man's presence a fire beside him, his hands nearly brutal in their grip. It was here that Daniel noted that in the months since Brennenburg he had lost weight. Up against Dr. Seward's strong and hearty body he was dwarfed, there was no question in who would win if the doctor decided to overpower him. Daniel's pulse came fast, his breath shallow, "He's gone, Doctor. He won't ever be back. If I told you how I know, you would certainly admit me."

"I would admit myself for some of the things I've experienced." He let go of Daniel just the same, "How can you be so sure, Daniel?"

Daniel remembered the unearthly glow of that deep room, past every antechamber, into the heart of the castle - the heart of his own horror and depravity, he remembered the last farewell, the parting speech. He remembered damning himself to be torn apart in the darkness by the Shadow. "Because I would have done anything to keep his love, I know how he feels, he's gone back to her. We are not so different, he and I. In spite I gave myself a directive to kill him, to redeem us both, to find retribution for the many victims they had left in their wake. A grotesque pairing we made, they made, but yet when finally faced with him-" Daniel shrugged, looking down at the wine soaking down into the floorboards, "If I were to lie I would save face and say I lost my nerve, that I was always a coward. To be truthful, I looked at him and loved him still, even after it all. Even after recovering what I did of my torn mind, the horror and bloodshed, I could not help but love him, and so I did the only thing I could do, I let him go."

Doctor Seward cleaned up the wine with some gauze from his bag and packed up his things. With the wine dulling his senses and a full belly, Daniel found the prospect of sleeping to be a task perhaps more achievable. The doctor stood with his back to him as he changed into his bed shift and when he had gotten under the sad covers and cleared his throat, the man returned to his side. 

"I will come again tomorrow when I've done with my work for the day, it may be late. I am sorry I cannot leave the laudanum with you."

Daniel laughed, "I understand, Doctor. I have abused my privilege there." 

When the man had left Daniel stood unsteadily and brought himself to the desk, he wrote as much as he could recall of their discussion, taking extra care to detail the various procedures and the description of the diseased lung tissues the doctor had described. He took a guess at the look of it and drew from memory and the Baron's own anatomical studies, the state of a healthy and tuber filled lung. The sickness had many names but that kind sad Doctor many years ago had described it to them as the 'wasting' disease. He had time surely, but each period of recovery was not the healing one might think. With lapses in the illness brought the healing of the wounds being beset and torn into his organs. Each day past gave him time but it was borrowed. They had no way to heal an abused lung, to surgically remove the diseased tissue would only cause the beset individual to die of blood loss. 

Perhaps that was better than drowning on one's own blood. Daniel had seen men die of both, but he could not tell you which was the preferred method. Scrubbing his hand over his face he stood and paced the room. 

He had something that modern medicine did not. He had a soap-stone star from the Gods know where, some other plane of reality certainly, but one that he had already used to heal himself inumerous times. He had the gift of the Baron's discarded notes - from a man far beyond his kin. He had himself, maybe not as human as he started out life, maybe a little more, maybe a little less. He had hope too, and he had drive, and an understanding that if he waited too long, if he allowed this to fester inside of him much more, there would be no recovering. He would waste away, mortal and far more alone than Hazel had been.

There was too much left to do. There was only now to plan it out and to ready himself for the ritual of it. The Baron's steel lay in his own resolution. He had learned to stand tall only by losing it all, and here he was more a man for it and at the same time he'd become something other. Perhaps if he were incapable of using the star, if his quest to reform the orbs, to locate the missing pieces the Baron had not been able to find, was more impossible - perhaps then Daniel would have settled in his tender humanity and let time dull away the pain of his own survival.

Daniel was ready to admit now, that the Baron would not lie in his own notes about the abilities of men, the usages of those children's tools that had somehow fallen through the gaps between realities to end up flung about human civilization. That Daniel was standing here now, slowly recovering shards of his broken mind and putting together his own life was evidence enough, he was no more a man than the Baron had been. That castle had left Daniel a monster, it was just up to him to set the shape it would blossom into. The Baron had known it too, that the evil was in him - he'd spoken of it in one of his strange cylinders.

Taking himself to bed properly now he gutted all but one of the lights. Curling up under the thin blanket he missed his thick covers at the castle even more.

The occultists of his age would have salivated to know the wonders and discoveries he had made, to be what Daniel had become. Some even had already damned their souls enough that they would not have encountered the madness Daniel did to get here. But then, perhaps it had been the madness that had begun the change itself.

He turned onto his back and watched the light of the fire and lamp war in shadows across the ceiling of his room. 

"Hazel? I recovered our books," he whispered - to the stars above him, out there over them all, glinting in the black ink of forever, "My letters. I came for you, I am sorry I was so late." Hazel is dead and Daniel is dreaming, they stand in a place he had never been, and he looks at himself in an odd mirror, at the strange inhuman glint of his eyes. When he turns to Hazel to ask her where they are it is to see the mismatched eyes of the Baron, blue-green and gold.

He does not ask her where they are, he looks past her to the open window, to the stretch of red-sand and violet-orange sky. He looks at the two moons adrift in the starless sky, the midnight that was as bright as midday.

"You can almost learn to miss the dark here." His own voice says to the empty walls of this tomb, this palace long ago abandoned.

He awakens still hearing the drifting soft whisper of Hazel's precious laughter, he cannot breathe, the weight on his chest like a hundred stones, blinking in awareness he then sees that it's not stones but a hand, and the hand is attached to the house-boy. Behind him are the cook and her friend, all three of them look contrite and worried.

"You were gone for the lesson , you didn't answer at least, and I convinced Corvis to let us in to check on you when you returned with the doctor, we saw the light and thought you were awake, you were talking and everything."

Daniel sat up, gathering his blanket tighter to himself, he felt like they were children flocked around him, even though he knew there was probably little difference in their ages, a couple years at most. How he had aged in a mere year, that he was so far removed from them.

"Talking in my sleep probably, I'm not sure I'm in a proper state to teach you all to write your names."

The cook girl laughed, "Cor no, not in your night gown!" She gestured to a basket set on the red chair, "That's for your breakfast tomorrow. You're terribly nice Mr. Tremaine, a proper gentleman and we want to make sure you get well right fast."

Corvis flushed behind the girls, "If you need me to bring you anything you just knock on the ceiling, I'm in the servant's room right above yours sir."

Daniel flushed at the unwanted attention. "Thank you, all three of you. As you can see I am resting now, and my ailment will certainly be better in the morrow after a full night's sleep."

When they had made their departure he locked the door again and then shoved the edge of a chair under the knob lest someone else come check on him.

He needn't have, the rest of the night was uneventful and morning found him in better spirits. Looking through the late night care package he discovered a full loaf of bread - proper and not overly treated with whatever made the loaf so hard downstairs. A small jar of preserves accompanied it, as well as a chunk of cheese, a thumb size cut of cured meat, and by far the rarest and most special prize in the basket - a fully ripe apple. He smiled softly to himself as he dressed and having made himself tea over the small stove he tucked into his breakfast, paging through one of his own journals, edging away from the maddening depths and cutting straight to the pages with his anatomical sketches. Even here though, his motions were choppy jerked things, his normally precise strokes drawn out and ragged. The animal braying in the depths of his abused mind. 

He compared them with his sketches the night prior, and the Baron's own delicate and controlled studies. When the knock came to the door he was almost so absorbed pacing the room idly with his books to ignore it, especially with how tenderly it came. Taking himself to it, he pried the chair out from under the knob and then opened it, to see Corvis standing tall and ungainly in the hallway, nervous and shifty. In his hands was a sealed envelope and he looked surprised to see that Daniel had actually come to the door.

"Dear boy, you really must learn to knock harder. Is that for me?"

Corvis nodded and held the letter out to him, and Daniel considered the seal on the front, smiling to himself a bit bitterly he found he did not remember it at all but he did know it just the same - the university of course. "Thank you Corvis." He tipped the boy even though he'd probably just brought the letter up from Mrs. Forrestson who had gotten it from the postman, still it was unopened and that was saying something, curiosity could be a powerful master, plus if the boy could be bought into silence he could try that.

He broke the seal with the silver dagger as a makeshift letter opener, noticing the fine signature of the Dean of Histories. He knew from that alone, the answer he had been sent. If it had been a refusal it would have been from a secretary or someone else who meant little in the scheme of things.

His requested pay was proved and his presence most eagerly anticipated. He laughed, wondering just how terrible a job the former assistants had done that even after so many months they were still desperate for someone to handle the situation. He scanned the letter, there was no start date at all. Shrugging into his travel coat he took the steps two at a time, mood buoyant on possibilities. 

Lenny practically knocked his chair over to see him coming down the steps, "Mr. Daniel!" His voice was practically a chastisement, Daniel felt guilt and was unsure why until the man fidgeted with his hat, "You should be resting, you need to recover your strength."

"Oh Lenny, I'm sure the doctor recovered him well enough last night." Mrs. Forrestson spoke in an almost playful manner that Daniel really hoped was not implying things the way he thought they might be. The least he needed was his landlady thinking he was being buggered by his physician. "He looks right as summer rain to me, what a healthy glow on his cheeks." Yes she was certainly implying something and he did himself well to completely ignore it. 

"I received acceptance for a posting I applied to, Lenny I have need of you should you have your carriage ready?" 

"I do but you shouldn't be doing manual labor, Mr. Daniel. Going into old castles and carrying things about like your chair and things upstairs won't be good for you. Wet dirty work, you'll make yerself half dead."

Daniel smiled nervously, "No, Lenny I'll only be sorting through files and books and compiling them. I am not in the business of taking things from old castles." Having appeased the man, he was finally permitted to leave the boarding house, his own bemusement warring with an inner indignation at someone trying to determine what was best for him. After the asylum, his skin nearly crawled to consider that might have been his every day - were it not for Doctor Seward, and here what had before been exasperation and indignation had mellowed into a friendly respect and his own grateful nature. If not for the man he would be rotting in his own putrid degrading mental state. It was not even recorded upon his name that he had been admitted. 

"I will be taking another carriage home, I've no idea when I will be done here tonight Lenny." He explained once they had arrived in the heart of the district that had once been before-Daniel's most beloved home of learning. 

"Are you sure Mr. Daniel? I'd not mind waiting for you." 

"Yes, you've nothing to worry on, your place as my everyday driver is well established Lenny."

The man in the coachmen's seat above him shifted uncomfortably, "It's not that, it's just you were in a right fitful state the past few days, and if anyone else o'er me was to find you likewise, they might call for a doctor that's not yer own." Lenny frowned, a dark protective look, "That's about what happened t'you when we found you, afore they could call me to go fetch your doctor, that pinkerton man had called for the constabulary." 

"Pinkerton? Like the detective agency?" Daniel instantly made the connection, the constable at breakfast - he was not a constable at all and that fully explained his odd accent, an American! He could not recall the man's name but Lenny supplied it for him. 

"Yessir, that Redfield man, he's a pinkerton. Said you drained half a bottle a'ladanum probably tryin' to do yourself in, but I knew you wasn't - akin why I went and fetched your doctor right away even though they'd brought men in. He took over your care from them, pushed his weight around right good and proper." Lenny looked down at him in a paternal way, soft and concerned, "I tell 'em you know we;ve all got our vices, and you're a gentle man. Knew you just needed to be cared after in the sick bed, you're not no lunatic." 

Oh if only Lenny knew, but Daniel just reached up and patted the man on the knee, "Doctor Seward had completely control of my dosage now and I am feeling fine and hearty today, the weather is nearly nice for this time of year. I will be fine Lenny, but I can see that I will not win this argument with you." He took out a few smaller coins, "At least make sure you sup well and get the horses some sort of treat." 

Lenny smiled again and gave him a little salute. "I'll be waitin' for you, enjoy yourself at your library Mr. Daniel." He did not take the time to explain to Lenny that he was not going to a library, for one he was not sure that the man had ever even been in a library to begin with and instead took his departure in silence. 


	9. Modern Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herbert was an asshole, I give Daniel a BETTER father figure!!! We take the hammer and we FIX the Canon.

The university was a collection of many buildings of all different ages but largely looking the exact same despite this. As such Daniel was completely lost and so began the tedious task of pretending he knew where he was and what he was doing. At least in this he had the boon of being easy to ignore, and his polite questions and glimpses into open rooms filled in the gaps. The histories were in a building with natural sciences, which made absolute sense, but he'd already walked by the building twice before he was figured it out. Taking the steps up to the second floor and past a collection of giant fossilized skeletons he finally found the office to the histories (and natural sciences) professors. 

Sitting a a table, hunched over five open texts and a page of obvious translations - including unfortunate errors crossed out numerously, and a tablet of Sumerian origin - Daniel surmised at a glance, was a young man with bright eyes and jet-black hair. His glasses were slipping down his nose and he had not noticed Daniel enter, nor come closer, not even when Daniel was standing right before the desk, close enough to see the young man's work. He bent forward a bit to get a better look at it the text and the tablet before he spoke, "It is ivy, or vine- that is the word. Blood of the vine, I believe it likely means wine. It appears to be a property list." 

The young man startled upright, staring at Daniel dumbstruck, "Excuse me?" The boy spoke with a sharply proper accent. far surpassing Daniel's own. 

"The word you were laboring over, it is vine." 

The young man turned back to the work, turned a half dozen pages and then looked back up at Daniel, now with a look such as one might have for someone who had saved them from drowning in a well. "Who are you?!" The young man asked, eager and eyes bright. Clearly he was hoping to find some new student or transfer with which to steal notes from, or study beside. 

Before Daniel could answer there came a voice from one of the offices further on, "Daniel Tremaine." When Daniel turned there was absolutely no recognition in him for the man standing with his hip canted against the door, a look of bemusement on aged face. His grey-white hair was striking and his eyes almost as dark as obsidian. "You are unexpected but not unwanted. I had heard you were back in London and had applied to go through Herbert's works, but I did not believe it till now." The man pushed off the wall and Daniel saw that he relied heavily on a cane, and limping over the man took him in a one armed embrace, pulling him with a strength that bellied his ailments in against him chest, face pressed into Daniel's hair, into the side of his neck. 

"I would have killed Herbert over again if something had happened to you, I told him you were too delicate, he always pushed you in most cruel a manner." Daniel listened to him and looked past him to the office he had come from, the name upon the plaque next to the door, Warren Rice, Ancient Languages. The man squeezed him before standing apart from him again, looking at Daniel with a relief and pride Daniel could not deny. "I suppose I was wrong about your delicacy, Daniel."

"I did return, Warren." He made a gamble with the first name, of course there was mention of a few professors, a Professor Rice certainly, in his letters and journal. But he made a guess that any man here who might call him Daniel, he perhaps would be on first name basis with them, Daniel of Mayfair had not been a student for awhile, but an assistant and a scholar? Yes.

The professor turned to smile at the young man, "Do not think I did not hear Daniel answering your test for you Wheatley, go fetch another tablet and get to work on translating it, lest you be here all night." Warren took Daniel by the elbow and urged him toward the office, accompanied by the near sobbing sigh of frustration from the young man at the desk. 

"Wheatley shows much promise if he could only apply himself properly. Albeit not quite so much promise as you. I still mourn losing you to Herbert's promise of glamour and treasure. Not that it brought him much in the end," the Professor flinched, looking to Daniel as if he expected an outburst of some kind, but Daniel remained silent, and Warren seemed surprised to see it. "I thought, honestly you would not return after word came back about what happened. I had some last hope you had found somewhere quiet to study and flourish." 

"One might say I did, for a time." Flourished Daniel had done, blossoming into a terrible creation of sharp knife-edges and spilled blood. He felt like a monster that had been invited directly inside to the den of it's creation, pieced together by science and otherworldly influences, dusty tomes on history and rotting lungs brought up from the autopsies of criminals.

Professor Warren Rice stood behind his chair, the desk between them, his hands curving tightly around the edge of the wood, with the door closed now he really looked at Daniel, and he seemed to be tearing him apart with his gaze, "They will be glad you have come to put an order to the man's works." He seemed to be hedging around something, working at it from sideways angles, but then, "That fucking prick, I told Herbet not to take you," he snarled, his fury barely contained and sudden as a whirlwind, "Look what he did to you!" The sudden outburst caught Daniel off guard and yet he stayed his ground, with two chairs and a desk between them he had the advantage anyway, and this rage was clearly not directed at him. 

"Precocious and bright and he had to take you," sneering Professor Rice angrily grabbed a bottle and two glasses from behind him, "Greedy insensitive bastard. What did he do to you? You're broken now." The scent of brandy overcame Daniel, the memory of his beautiful view of the lake, the companionship of his fellow students, and brandy - Warren's brandy on his tongue. "You look just like his protege now, road dust and sharpened, not that he would have appreciated your grace in transition." Warren threw back his brandy and held the other glass out to Daniel who accepted it timidly, it was this action that seemed to soothe the man finally, "Or maybe there is still some of our little mouse left in you."

Daniel sipped the brandy and closed his eyes, transported as he was. Warren's hand heavy on the back of his neck, directing him to another passage, another text, another language. Pressing higher and higher and encouraging him ever onward, the man's even tone making light in the lantern's glow of other student's questions. A professor that spent time with his proteges, of which Daniel had been, once upon a time. He wondered how much of Mr. Messan's view on Herbert East had been coloured by Warren. Opening his eyes he watched as Professor Rice sat and he took the seat opposite him only then, savoring the flavor of brandy on his tongue. 

"I cannot say I am happy to see you back, but yet I am." Professor Rice dropped his cane against the corner of his desk and tipped his chair back to look at Daniel from a half-recline. "Where the devil have you been, Daniel?" The man frowned shrewdly at him, "I told Herbert he was going to awaken something terrible, I even forbade him my texts, and then he went and did it anyway, I thought perhaps he would be too blinded without the proper information to find it. But he certainly did and he almost took you with him. He did take poor Stanford, they sent the man's hat back in a box as it was the only thing they'd recovered of him."

"What about my pink parasol?" Daniel put the glass down, his nerves thankfully dulled enough by the contents to carry on with this conversation. At the look of blank comprehension he explained Herbert's insistence that he use the lady's parasol to accompany the dig due to the heat.

"What an absolute prick." Warren scowled, and then he rose his mostly empty glass toward the wall to his left, "To you Herbert, you complete piece of waste." Knocking back the rest of his brandy he too put down his glass. 

"You knew about the Guardian." Daniel wondered why he had not gone to Warren the second he returned to London, realizing the Shadow was following him, he knew more than before-Daniel did, clearly. 

"One does not speak about buried things when they should stay buried, you survived the ordeal, you came back changed and destroyed of your beautiful innocence thanks to Herbert, I could not stop you and still retain your innocence nor not come off as a complete madman in the process, although I did my best." Warren gestured to his cane, "You asked me where I got my injury and I lied to you, I told you it was in a carriage accident in Massachusetts. It was not, I was mauled and nearly murdered by something that should have never been and we destroyed it." Warren turned painful black eyes upon him, as if he was mourning Daniel, with a start he realized that was exactly what was happening. The professor was not mourning his lost memories, he did not know they were gone, he was doing something not a single person he had met had done for him, had done for them. Warren Rice was mourning the loss of the man who had died in Brennenburg, mourning the innocence this entire ordeal had torn out of him.

"Somehow you destroyed the Guardian, or put it back to sleep." Warren continued, and then he rubbed his face, "And now you have been made like me, a Guardian yourself, knowing of those outside things with no way to protect others who would never believe you." He gestured his arm back to the wall, where Daniel surmised on the other side was Herbert's office, "Go get started settling in, I'll let the department head know you've arrived already." 

"Are you angry with me?" Daniel asked, remaining seated.

"I am angry at everything, but not at you Daniel, I hope once this mood passes me, I can greet you properly." Warren sighed and rubbed at his eyes, looking pained as if he were warding off a headache, "I am also deeply sorry I kept things from you to protect you, but I would do it again if it could have in anyway kept you as you were. Please, do give me time young friend, I need to just recover myself."

Daniel nodded quietly and stood, leaving just as silently. The assistant, Wheatley, was gone and so Daniel made his way down the department hall. Sure enough the office for Herbert East was right next to Warren's, and Daniel tested the door, gladly finding it unlocked. He let himself in and found himself in a mess. Papers had been gone through and turned over, some had fallen off various overflowing surfaces. Books warred with artifacts for office space and an unlit fireplace had a mantle packed with what Daniel assumed were souvenirs of past expeditions. In contrast to Warren's tidy and smaller office it felt an overly aggrandized place. Daniel recalled how he wrote of his own reaction to Herbert's initial interest in him, how starstruck he had sounded and frowned. Clearly some of that dazzle had been in the man's presentation - certainly this room showed off a wealth of life experience in comparison to most places, and yet it paled when held up to the fallen grandeur that had been Brennenburg. If he dreamt one more time about the pillows on his bed from the castle he would need to go out and replace the limp one on his bed now. 

He located the oil lamps on the walls, saw the state of the fireplace, and setting his back up against the closed door, he closed his eyes and collected himself. The brandy was wearing off, the buzz of his blood returning to the ever present frizzle in the back of his head, his teeth on edge. He brought his left hand up to his mouth and bit the knuckle sharply. The pain blossomed with the blood and he jerked his head back against the door and let both flows coagulate and focus. The lamps all flared to beautiful light, the fireplace sparked and then became a timid glow. Daniel licked up the sluggish wound, sucking against it to stop the blood as he moved toward the fireplace and took some wood from the side to aid the meager spark. It was nowhere near the skill he had with the blade, but pain was an artform, Daniel had never learned to inflict it with his teeth, only with tools and his own dirty hands. 

Looking around at the room again he knew he would be able to do naught in this space if he did not clean it first. Squaring his shoulders he shrugged out of his travel coat and hung it on the coat peg near the door and then set to work cleaning. He was partway through with getting the papers and other things off the floor when the tap of Warren's cane came along the hallway and the combined murmurs of voices. When the door opened Warren and an unknown man entered, and the Classical Languages professor held the door open in respect before limping in after him. The man was neat, and well dressed, and looked as if he grew up rich and had stayed so. He was closer to Warren's age than Daniel's but his bearing was less demanding a presence, yet when Warren introduced him as the Department Head and Dean of Histories, Daniel was not too surprised. With the politics of academia the man might have bought his way into the position for all Daniel knew. 

Dean Lauriet spoke in a similar accent to poor Wheatley out in the hall but in far less sympathetic an individual it made Daniel uneasy, "Mr. Tremaine, I do hope you will be staying with us after your work in compiling East's posthumous works is done. Certainly we could work your doctorate through one of the anthropology professors, Dr. Rice here tells me you were to have submitted your graduate thesis on the Algerian exhibition when you all returned. Sad state that, but life must go on!" 

Warren looked as if he had bitten into a lemon behind the Dean and Daniel felt a kindred spirit in distaste for the Dean. "Yes, it would not due for us to dwell on the dead." Even though the Dean agreed with Warren in a nod, he did not seem to understand that the man was being sarcastic, what was this entire department but a study of the dead, and Daniel bit back a laughter, disguising it as a half-cough. Warren's lips twisted into a delighted and yet bitter smile, his black eyes glinting at Daniel. Clearly he was getting over his displeasure quickly, Daniel found despite the rocky welcome, he could not help but respect and admire Warren. He wanted to know more about the incident in the former colonies, what had happened to the man that had taken his own naivety away. "Come along Dean Lauriet, I will keep you posted on Mr. Tremaine's progress, I am sure we can tempt him to submit himself again to the graduate program." 

As quickly as they had come they had gone but Daniel was not even a moment alone before the door opened again. This time it was the young assistant from the department foyer, who ducked in and shut the door behind himself as if he was being chased by something - or someone. He did not even notice Daniel at first and when he did he almost shrieked, only barely able to cover his mouth. Daniel winced and flung his hands to his chest, heart-rate practically doubling, his chest aching at the shock. "Oh, oh no I am ever so sorry, I did not know this was where you had gone, I have become so accustomed to coming here to hid- to, to - to take in the, the solitude." The student spoke at a whisper.

"Who are you hiding from?" Daniel whispered back, frowning past the boy at the door shrewdly, and then back to him. He was not really a boy, maybe only two or so years younger than Daniel, but just as with the staff at the boarding house, he felt so much older just by way of life experience.

"Professor Rice, I cannot bear to see his disappointed face again, I had planned to come in here to finish my test." Here now Daniel noticed the boy had his satchel with him. "But you are here so I will go away and leave you to your work."

Daniel looked around and then he pointed toward a chair beside the fire and a table beside it, both were completely filled to toppling with paraphernalia of a life unorganized but there was a clear space on the carpet before the hearth and Daniel gestured to it, "No don't bother yourself, you can sit over there on the carpet and work on your test, I won't ruin it for you this time, my apologies about before."

Wheatley rushed himself over to the carpet and dropped down upon it unceremoniously, odd when Daniel considered the smartness of the boy's accent. He then pushed himself between the chair and the table and as such would remain entirely hidden from the doorway's line of sight, Daniel could not help but smile at the display, reminded of something or someone, but unsure of what memory was being referenced in the reminder. 

"It is really alright Mr. Tremaine, I would never have gotten it, I was so convinced it was a metal, not in a century would I have thought to look further in." Spreading out his work before him he brought out another tablet and carefully placed it before the fire's light to study better. 

It was in companionable silence that they both did their respective work for a few hours, until the light from the half-covered window finally dimmed down and Daniel's energy was flagging with the setting sun. He was just about to take up a final stack of paper from the floor when the door opened. Warren looked as exhausted as Daniel felt and he leaned in the doorway, "Come away from that Daniel, I've recovered from my mood and I mean to take you to dinner. Dash the fire and then you can wait for me in the hallway and I'll take care of the lamp lights." 

Daniel stood very still, Wheatley frozen in absolute fear, he'd been doing so well in the last few hours, Daniel had been watching idly as the boy crossed out and corrected himself, making good headway with what Daniel had realized was a spiritual text around his third passing of the hunched over scholar. Not that Daniel actually could fully remember any Sumerian, it just came and went, floating through his head - sometimes to be recognized, other times to be a blank wall, with no manner of logic to it, mystical secret to the ages. He carefully did not look at the fire and as such not at Wheatley, merely watched the student from the corner of his eye, "I just had one last stack I was sorting and then I'll meet you, I wouldn't have you stand and wait for me Warren, please I will come along shortly to your office." 

The professor looked at him shrewdly and then arched one finely formed eyebrow, "Suit yourself,-" but here the man paused and looked down at Daniel's hands and where they were clutching to a stack of papers, and a look of concern crossed his formerly ambivalent features, it was only when the professor had come all the way along into the room and collected his hand, forcing him to put the papers down, did he remember he'd bitten himself earlier to light the room up, "Daniel, what happened?" 

There was no way to explain things away, it was clearly the torn indent of teeth, too big to be a rat or other creature and he had not had it when he'd left the brandy behind. He did not wish to gamble on a lie that he'd had it before he'd left company with Warren, the man was far too sharp and had probably already catalogued even the smallest details of Daniel's appearance. 

"I bit myself." 

Warren started and looked from the wound to Daniel's face, before his looked back to the wound and then something softened in him, and he turned his attention back up to Daniel's face, "Still so delicate." 

Daniel had really hoped that Wheatley would have used this distraction to sneak past the professor to his freedom, but no, the boy still remained frozen on the carpet like a statue. There was nothing more to it but to admit to his presence, and perhaps light fibbing, "I asked Wheatley to come sit with me while he worked on his test, I could not bare to be here alone at first. I think in time I will," he took a shaky breath, "I will come to terms with it all." 

At this Warren glanced to where Daniel gestured and his soft look carried from Daniel to the student still sitting frozen-stiff on the carpet, "I see, so this is where you scurried off too. Thank you young Mr. Wheatley for coming to sit with Mr. Tremaine, you would do well to emulate him, he was one of my brightest pupils." 

Wheatley laughed nervously up at them, eyes practically screaming their thanks to Daniel, "Oh it was really nothing Professor, I was getting cold out in the hall at Mr. Phillip's desk." 

Warren turned his attention toward the fireplace and Daniel did not mistake the look of nearly salacious longing on the man's face, "Yes, Herbert's fireplace has been a topic of much competition in the department and whom to who his office will now fall. I believe part of that is why they were so ardently attempting to get his space cleared out." He smiled at both his former student and current student and then straightened up, letting go of Daniel's hand, "Finish up then, and I'll be waiting for you in my office," he turned and then paused at the door, looking back and peering around the chair to where Wheatley was hidden, "You can bring your test along to me, Mr. Wheatley, I will grade it as if you had completely finished the translation." 

When he had left Wheatley finally moved, his hands trembling as he began to put his things back into hit satchel, all at once Daniel was hit with the understanding of who it was the student reminded him of. His own trembling hands and nervous desire to find approval, his grasping intellect looking for answers just out of reach. He had to brace himself against the table and there he took a steady breath and laughed softly, "Well that was close."

"Thank you Mr. Tremaine." Wheatley looked up at him, his eyes particularly bright with unshed tears of fear and probably also relief, "I owe you much." He stood and then took to the fire, dashing it down and smothering it out, "I can put out the lights for you, if you would bring my paper to Professor Rice? I do not think I have the nerve to face him again tonight after that." The cowardice that in himself was disgusting, was in Wheatley rather endearing. The boy was so naive, so unknowledgable about the world and the horrors within it. 

Daniel nodded numbly, and took the paper from the boy, thanking him quietly and making his departure. He had gathered himself and put back on his coat by the time he reached the open door to Warren's office. The man was standing behind his desk, looking down at a number of papers, and Daniel took himself forward into the room. No matter how quietly he came he was known and Warren greeted him with a smile over the papers, holding his hand out to take Wheatley's test from him, "I should make you grade it." He mused, "But I think no matter who does, we would be too lenient on him." He placed the paper with the others on his desk and then took himself around it.

Moving as if controlled by another entity, Daniel took himself to the coat rack and so naturally they then moved together as he helped Warren into his coat, the memory of hundreds of such actions were written into his sinew, his mind may not remember, but his body remembered. They fell into step together on the way down the hall, and Daniel felt an overwhelming sense of Deja'vu but had no way to decipher what memory it was in reference to.

He walked opposite the side that Warren used his cane, and when they took the stairs down he offered his arm to the man silently, together they made their way down, and he flushed to remember that Lenny was actually still waiting for him. He would have to wait a time further, there was nothing more he could do for it. Refusing Warren to accompany him to dinner felt like a potential career killer here, he was clearly well-loved by the professor and had greatly respected the man himself, to lose his approval now would perhaps end his search into Herbert's belongings. At least he'd given Lenny supper money, the man wouldn't go hungry. 

He recognized the way they were going before they quite broke the campus of the univeristy grounds, back toward the boarding house that before-Daniel had lived in during his time as a graduate student. They did not quite go that far down the lane, instead Warren led them to another house along the road, with a house that still retained some of it's old tudor inspired architecture. "Just a moment." Warren moved from his side to unlock the door and then quickly went along and lit the lamps on the walls, he vanished around a corner and then quickly returned with a brass candlestick and lit candle, which he held out for Daniel to take. 

"Thank you." Daniel flushed, holding the candlestick in his hand, cupping the flame with the other to protect the flame.

Gesturing toward a room down the hall Warren closed the door behind them and then shrugged out of his coat, "Go light the fire in the study, Daniel. I'll alert Sarah that I've a guest for dinner." 

Daniel knew he was meant to know who Sarah was but whether this was Warren's wife or house maid he had no idea, and gladly he went to the study to tend to the fireplace so he would not need to be called on that information. Just as he had not known why he trusted Dr. Seward to know about his missing pieces, he also knew he could not trust Warren with the same information. As much as he liked the man, without even knowing him, he knew that telling him the truth would be a terrible idea. Whether the professor would try to protect him to the point of hindrance or cast him out he could not admit to the man that he was a completely different Daniel than the one he thought him to be.

Without the aid of his specific talents in pain and fire-creation, it took him some time and labor to get the fire kindled and by the time he had finished and removed his coat, hanging it up on a hook in the room, the professor was back, now sans his tie with a few buttons of his shirt undone. "Thank you Daniel," he said and then collapsed into the chair nearest the fire, "I won't lie and say I'm not considering pushing Danvers off the roof just to get Herbert's fireplace." He motioned his hand toward a small wooden liquor cart, "Go pour us something to warm our bones, Daniel. Then tell me where you'd been hiding all this time, it's been months."

Daniel took himself to the cart and unstoppered the brandy with rote movements, again muscle memory, he wondered how often before-Daniel had tripped his way the rest of the lane toward home half in his cups after a nightcap with his languages professor. Taking the two glasses forward he perched himself on the edge of the chair opposite the Professor and held the glass out to him, "I came back to London looking for answers, some of the mess in Herbert's study is mine I'm afraid, albeit I was in such a state I cannot recall everything. I wrote to all of Herbert's contacts and the men he'd mentioned in concerns to the Algeria expedition in hopes that I might find some hope for me. I knew at that point the Guardian was following me."

"I wish beyond everything you had come to me." Warren lamented, his aged face was beautiful in it's mourning and contrition, nowhere near the decadence of the Baron's age and bearing, but he had a fragility to his structure but a strength of purpose that drew Daniel into staring at him, at the emotions that flickered behind the black of his gaze. "But I suppose you had no idea you could trust me with such things, in those days you must have thought you were entirely alone in the world, up against that creation of dark magic." 

So it was that Warren did not entirely understand, if he thought that the Guardian was some form of mysticism, or perhaps he just attributed the other to be occult, still Daniel's own understanding only came from the Baron's journals and cylinder records, before that he had thought it all ancient burial magic for a time. "I received a hasty response from Prussia, one of Herbert's sources and old friends wrote to me that he could protect me. It was there that the Guardian finally stopped in it's pursuit of me." He left out the why and how, and the rest of the story entirely. To his relief Warren did not press him on the missing pieces, he felt it might have been that the man knew he did not want to know the entire truth, if he had survived similar then there were some things one could only share with someone who had been through it with them. Daniel envied the 'we' Warren had used in describing his own ordeal, for he had gone through the entirety of his and been the sole remainder left behind. 

Agrippa would have understood him, had been through more pain and suffering than Daniel could ever fathom and yet retained his sanity and sense of self despite it all. In that the old alchemist was far stronger than Daniel could ever hope to be, he knew without him he never would have made it all the way through, and in honesty if he had not thrown Agrippa in through the portal with the Baron, he likely would not be here today, as it was Weyer who had somehow saved him from the Shadow and left him alone in the ruins. 

"So now you are here to pick up the pieces of your life." Warren sighed, his attention falling from Daniel to stare into the flame, and Daniel was glad that the predatory focus was not turned so brightly upon him. "How long have you been back in London?"

"A few weeks now, well, a week and a half." Time had passed so quickly already, and while so much had happened he felt like he had not actually made any progress at all toward his ultimate goals. "But the journey here was long."

"I can only imagine, and probably much longer than the flight there. Which of Herbert's contacts knew what to do?" 

Daniel measured his breath, he pressed his thumb to the bite he'd set into his finger and found clarity in the pain, "Alexander of Brennenburg, a baron in Prussia." 

"All the way to Germany, my you are well traveled now." Warren laughed softly, "Well, I give my thanks to the man for bringing about your safety." 

Daniel felt the words twisting out of him before he could stop them, "Oh no, he left me to die, it was his former partner in sciences and that man's student who provided me with freedom from the Guardian."

Again Warren did not pry on the matters that were so clearly sharp and brittle in Daniel's history, "What was it, do you know, that the Guardian was protecting this time?" This time, and of course Warren knew of other guardians, other deep dwellers of the earth that had been placed there long ago, unearthly and strange. 

But here Daniel knew just as Warren had kept secrets, he too would have to respect Daniel's own, "I am not at liberty to state, it is my burden to bear." At this the man turned from the fire to look at him again, sad and soft, "I apologize my friend, my mentor, I cannot tell you this." No, he would destroy them entirely, dashed to impossible pieces of glass, before he admitted to another man their unique properties. He would not bring about that understanding upon anyone else. In that secret lay his own secrets, the truth of the exact depravity before-Daniel had sunken into. How he had enjoyed it up until the very end when his own sanity snapped and he took a life too like what he had once cherished. He would find penance for their crimes his own way, and take the truth of the orbs and the rest of it all with him, out into a new reality entirely. 

"In our secrets we truly do die alone, for there are none eventually who can share the burden of them with us, I do understand Daniel, I just wish you did not have to as well, tell me when you planned to-" here the professor was interrupted in his question by a knock to the wall beside the door and together their attention both turned to a young woman in a simple brown dress with a maid's apron on, albeit the dress bellied her place as true housekeeper, as well as the pretty rose cameo set in her satin choker. Warren's mood brightened significantly, "Sarah dear, do you remember Daniel Tremaine? I know you were only here a few months before he left for Algeria." 

Sarah shyly turned her attention to Daniel and curtsied, her cheeks flushing. She was still in his books a girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, and barely did her maid's apron fit her, "Hello Mr. Tremaine, I do not remember you I am sorry, uncle Warren has so many different students visit him." 

"Oh it is fine Sarah, I am very immememrable entirely." He has stood at the introduction as was proper and found that Warren was soon at his elbow, moving him along with him, 

"No doubt Sarah came to fetch us for dinner." Warren received a nod from his niece and took them along to the dining room accordingly. It was set for three people and as Sarah struggled with the knot on her apron Daniel rushed around to pull her chair out for her, to Warren's apparent amusement, for the man laughed softly, clearly trying his best to hide it, "Please, do sit down Daniel, she prefers to do for herself."

Daniel found himself arguing this but then caught the way she was bright as a cherry for her embarrassment and he sheepishly went back around the table to be seated at Warren's left. As soon as he was seated she followed and not a beat later Warren said a short and sufficiently thankful blessing over their meal. Daniel could not recall in all of his motley assortment of memories a single instance of prayer in Brennenburg. Not to say he could not recall pleas for God, oh no he could indeed, and he took a sip of the wine that had been poured to accompany their dinner to chase away the taste of decay from his tongue. 

Sarah had cooked a very delicious chicken, and although Daniel knew the meal was meant for just two, it had been stretched further with the side dishes, no doubt that which Sarah had prepared hastily when the Professor alerted her. Potatoes and a cold soup accompanied their dinner and Daniel found himself starving once the first bite had awakened his appetite. While the meal was less seasoned than he had come to be accustomed to supper being these past days, it was still well prepared and he thanked his host and the chef multiple times.

While they ate Warren told Sarah about his day at the department, and for her benefit asked Daniel some of the less dangerous topics of his travels, keeping it to discussions of culture and location. Daniel did his best to answer the questions as cobbled together from his own sources, and was relieved at each nod and laugh he received by way of passing grade in this unprepared for pop quiz on his own history. Sarah told them, but mostly her uncle, about her finished book work and the translations she'd left for him in his study when he had the time to check them. At Daniel's soft surprise Warren smiled a wry thing.

"Sarah is a new woman, Daniel. Do not look in such a way, when she came to live with me I immediately began to teach her as her mind is just as sharp as any man's. Her mother, my sister, was always the brightest in our family and married a newspaper man in Boston. Sarah could read before she could speak!" His pride further embarrassed her and she ducked her head, causing him to look at her and flinch in sympathy, "Oh dear, I apologize, I know you are very self conscious." 

Sarah peered at Daniel from the curtain of her loose hair, "None of the girls in the sewing circle at the church like me much because I can speak three languages." Daniel was relatively certain it had little to do with Sarah's intelligence and had more to do with the jealousy the other girls had over Sarah. 

Dismissing Sarah to return to her tasks, Warren arose and Daniel followed him back to the study, only then noticing through the uncovered window the time, night had fallen as they had spoken over dinner and no doubt Lenny was getting very worried about him by now. With this in mind he politely refused the refill to his brandy that Warren offered him. He was feeling the wine and brandy from earlier enough, he did not need to add another half-glass to his trip back to the university. Warren shrugged then and poured another thumb into his own glass, Daniel did not judge him, it would be hypocritical for him to do so considering where he'd just wound up because of his own vices. "I'll see you to the door, where are you staying? I could talk to Messan about getting your old room back if you'd like."

"Over the bridge a little ways, I think I will stay there, it is larger than my own room and suits me." At the door Warren looked up at the night sky apprehensively and Daniel felt his own fear ramping up at the wide stretches of empty night. It was new moon, and the stars could not hope to light the thick ink of London. His pulse was quick and his mouth dry, he almost screamed when Warren reached out to him, and his apology was breathless. 

"Your nyctophobia has gotten worse." Warren murmured sympathetically and Daniel remembered the way the man had offered to turn off the lamps in Herbert's office and the candle he had given Daniel in the darkened hallway and study, of course Warren knew about his fear of the dark, he had probably had to watch Daniel walk home before. "How far?" Warren frowned, looking out toward the bridge, as if intending to walk Daniel all that way, however far, and Daniel would not allow it.

"My driver is waiting for me at the university, somewhere." At the look of slight surprise Daniel found himself filling in the gaps nervously, "I came into a bit of money in Prussia so I hired a driver, he was worried about me finding a way home after my first day in a new posting so I had him wait for me." 

"Protective, a good trait for a servant to have. Should I send someone over to fetch him for you?" 

Daniel shook his head and looked back to the night, "Just, the candlestick if I might borrow it? I will return it to you tomorrow at the office." 

Warren went back into the study and came out with the candlestick, offering it out to him, the flame already flickering sluggishly, "I've no cover for it, Daniel. Are you sure you want to risk it going out?"

"I'll be just fine, don't worry so much Warren." Daniel laughed, and could not hide the nervousness from his voice, but he took the candlestick and then took himself down the stairs, only looking back and waving once. 

Of course he was not fine, the candle went out seven times before he made it to the college's lit oil lamp lanes, seven was a holy number but it had left Daniel's finger bitten and bruised, painfully torn and his mouth filled with the copper tang of fear-laced blood. Lenny jumped down when he saw him and took the candlestick from his trembling abused hands, only to then gently take Daniel's hand instead. "By the lord, what got at you? Can't they pay for rat catchers in a place like that?"

Certainly one bite couldn't be mistaken, but eight was another matter, and Daniel swallowed thickly, mouth parched and head throbbing, "It'll be fine." 

"Hopefully that doctor of yours will come to visit you soon, I hate to see those uncovered." Lenny helped him into the carriage and bundled him up in the blanket, placing the candlestick beside his leg before he ducked out and began their journey home. Daniel found himself hoping for Seward too, but it had little to do with his hand and more to do with needing the laudanum the man had taken away with him. Already not even two days and he hungered for it! It was enough to drive him to distraction, how frustrating and infuriating his own weakness was.


	10. Fractures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... more sexual content in this one.

He needn't have worried though, as soon as he entered Mrs. Forrestson reported that the doctor had come and she'd let him into Daniel's room, assuming Daniel would not mind, Daniel informed her he did in fact mind but that as long as she did not just let him in whenever he wanted in the future he would forgive her. This served him two purposed he could tell, one: it disavowed her of the obvious notion that he was being buggered by the doctor or vise versa; and two: that it would keep Seward from just rummaging through his belongings whenever he felt like it. The least that Daniel needed was the man uncovering the Baron's graphically rendered depictions of torture methods. 

To his relief Dr. Seward was instead sitting on the steamer trunk and reading through a history book, one of the ones he'd left for Hazel - and as such had not uncovered anything that was better off being hidden. He looked up as Daniel entered and gave him a warm and pleased smile, "Mrs. Forrestson told me you had accepted a posting?"

Daniel nodded, removing his coat and draped it over the desk, putting the candlestick atop it so he would not forget it. "At the university I attended, compiling and sorting through my former professor's documents. I took dinner with an old friend, another professor, I would have come sooner had I known you would be waiting for me."

Seward shrugged, "It's quite alright, I dined without you when I realized you would not be back soon." Seward motioned toward the half consumed dinner spread on the table before the fire, "Why are you really there though?" The man was shrewd and cut to the chase, lips twitching in a hidden smile. 

"I'm trying to find more pieces of myself, and the whole picture of it, what happened to me and what led up to it. Professor East, the man whose office I am sorting, was the head of the expedition to Algeria that led to all of this." Daniel waved his hand around at the room but he really meant himself more than the furniture he'd taken from Brennenburg. He paced a bit, collecting himself after the day, and idly rubbed at his bitten hand, unconsciously drawing attention to it.

Dr. Seward soothed him, first with his voice, a gentle shushing, and then standing and taking up Daniel's hand he cupped it in his own. "By the lord, what did you manage to do to yourself?" He tutted and brought Daniel over to the lounge sitting upon it with him he lay Daniel's hand on his lap and then reached over into his bag, fetching out the accoutrements of doctory. First he cleaned the wounds, to which Daniel hissed but was quieted again. Following this he bandaged him up with gauze.

"For a doctor of the mind you keep many things for the body upon your person." 

"Those who are sick in the heart or mind often hurt themselves, we all received the same training at first regardless." Dr. Seward turned his hand this way and that when he had finished bandaging him, only to pause, frowning. "You certainly hurt your hands often, Daniel."

"Do I?" Daniel shuddered and Dr. Seward slowly looked up at him, still holding his hand between his own. They were bent close together and Daniel was near enough to scent the wine Dr. Seward had drunk with his supper, close enough to see the specks of auburn and emerald in the man's eyes. 

A breath, another, a moment held in time and then Dr. Seward closed his eyes and took a certainly measured breath, another. When he opened his eyes he also drew back from Daniel, out of his space. He patted the hand he had bandaged and then turned to collect his things, "I'm going to leave you with the rest of dinner, I cannot imagine the fare you're taking here is properly nutritious for you. You must remain well fed to keep the cough at bay, no use in you wasting away on bad bread." Before he closed his bag he took from it the laudanum and Daniel immediately felt the hunger for it twist him up inside, his blood boiling for it. 

Measuring out the proper dosage, Dr. Seward oversaw him taking it and then turned as Daniel undressed and pulled on his night shift. By the time he had pulled it over his head, the world was blessedly dulled, and the pain of the day, of his tortured fingers and his buzzing brain had all been swept under a blessed wave of neutrality. He fell back onto the pillows, and felt Dr. Seward's eyes watching over him. He closed his eyes to the room, to Dr. Seward's painful longing, to the boarding house and it's poor naïve inhabitants, to London. He blinked and the world cascaded down, was unmade, and then was put back into pieces that were wrong yet right. The world was gone, but here it was again - just not where he had been.

Daniel held the laudanum bottle in his hand and the room was spinning, he was so hot, so immeasurably hot, as if the fires of the desert had chased him all the way here along with the Shadow. The cold air in his bedroom was not enough, what was usually oppressively cold in the unheated rooms he could now barely feel. His night shift was sticking to his skin from sweat and he knew only one thing, he desperately needed to see Alexander, his friend would know what to do. 

At the door Daniel witnessed two memories unfolding before him, unfolding before him in one: a lost little lamb, who had naively gone up a floor in the castle, had wandered in a state of drug-induced hysteria until finally his dear friend Alexander had found him and placed him back in bed, bruised and abused by his wandering through the castle alone with his little lantern for light and his own laudanum insanity.

In the second the thin veneer of reality shattered, came apart, and he walked-and watched from his own body, a passenger without control, as he moved through the castle, down - not up - ever downward, for where else would he have found Alexander but in those dark chambers where the man so often toiled. The noise of the deep mechanisms that controlled the moving room reverberated through him and he had to lean against the wooden side of the conveyor to keep from sliding down to the floor entirely. Still he was hot, even now, even as the bitter chill of those depths hit him, and in his feverish delirium he walked through old blood and new, calling out helplessly into the dark, only his lantern for light. 

In that first path, where he went up and up and found solace, everything had been hazy and warm, a thick layer of gossamer - or rather, Daniel thought from behind the eyes of this Daniel as he walked through the deep, wool pulled over one's eyes.

Here down, down in the devil's den, it was throbbing with reality and suffering, he walked past the whimpers of someone in a cage, with no care or comprehension of another's suffering. When he found the Baron the man was bent over the infernal machine that extracted vitae from blood, and he turned from his work to look at Daniel with that thin patience and bemused exasperation, "Daniel. What is wrong?" No statement on his state of undress, on his bloody footprints, on his complete lack of sense. 

"I am so very hot, Alexander, and there is this noise inside of me - nothing silences it." When Alexander touched his cheek to feel for fever he moaned and leaned into the touch, chasing it with his skin, the Baron's hand was so cold. "Please help me, please help me quiet it all."

The baron was so strong, he had lied in his letter to himself, nothing about Alexander of Brennenburg was weak, but to feel the man take him into his arms, practically cradle him, was another matter entirely, this was not the quiet strength of a man who had pretended to be his friend in order to manipulate him and had abandoned him, it was the strength that Daniel had hungered after. How real the dream felt in comparison to reality, and Daniel trembled against him, panting within moments of the man's hands upon his sides, his back. 

When the Baron laid him out on the rack he stretched himself upon it like an eager virgin on the marital bed, closing his eyes he centered himself on the hard wood beneath him, the scrape of it against his bare arms and legs. Without asking for it, the Baron knew what he needed, what he needed in order to center himself, in order to silence the noise. The straps were not needed, Daniel prostrated himself on the rack, wrists and ankles spread. When the first swing of the crop landed, he cried out and arched, but his wrists and ankles remained. The burn came and bloomed like a rose against his thighs, the thin cloth of his night shift pushed up by the unforgiving leather nearly leaving him exposed. 

Had this happened before? Had they done this before? Second swing, third - his thighs were on fire and ached splendidly. Had the Baron given him his medicine before? Fourth and fifth, and Daniel's body fell into the rhythm, telling him the truth of it. From the first snap, that first night - deep in the depths, with nothing but his own broken humanity to collect, had he not even then asked the Baron for penance? Had the baron not given it to him, chaining him up next to a corpse and whipping him till he was a wreckage. Daniel hadn't remembered it, never remembered it. 

Not till it was happening again, and the pleasure of the whip, the rapturous praise of the Baron's single minded focus was turned onto him entirely, could he remember what it was to be put back together again by being broken apart. Tonight there was more riding in this body than just that lost creature, and Daniel found that the penance was turning to pleasure - his own illness and heart sickness blossoming under the single-minded focus of the Baron and his crop. When the man noticed his state he stopped entirely and Daniel groaned in agony and need. 

A cold hand stroked what the crop had left abused and Daniel's head fell back, groaning again. That hand was everything and all, it was heaven, and Daniel barely comprehended the sound of the leather crop hitting the ground before the first smack hit. Flesh to flesh, and this no, this had never been done, the Baron had never used his hands on Daniel till now, till the proof of Daniel's own arousal stood a tent under his night shift. His thighs felt the pleasure of the Baron's abuse, shifting higher with each swing, and Daniel's voice turned to high-pitched keens and sweet mewling cries.

But just as soon as that brutal delicious pace had been picked up did the Baron halt entirely, and taking a step back from the rack, Daniel watched him gather himself, a certain mania in his mismatched eyes. "Heterochromia," Daniel whispered - throat parched, he'd bitten his tongue and he could taste blood, "You are so beautiful." Here Daniel flushed, his own naivety warring with the half-conscious riding alongside him that would not be embarrassed by such a slip of honesty, the Baron was undeniably beautiful. Certainly some of this was the familiarity of time, of coming to find someone beloved, when even their worst imperfections could be carved down and ignored or made lovable too. But most of it was just the Baron, he had always been otherworldly, even when Daniel hadn't realized it. 

This Daniel, confessing himself on the rack with the man before him and his own arousal an ache to contrast the abuse he'd taken had no understanding of the Baron's otherworldly nature and the real truth of his beauty, that appearance that was under the varnish of his noble strength, hiding like a painted over masterpiece. 

"Are you still feeling fevered, Daniel?" The man's hand was not even red from the abuse, the glint of his golden signet ring decadent as he stretched his beautiful fingers, as if nimbling them for a long night of work. 

"Yes." Every Daniel answered together, all the pieces of him, and he wanted, he needed - the Baron stepped forward, "Please, Alexander." His mouth was so dry, and the noise inside of him set to such a fever pitch, like an entire orchestra preparing for the night's symphony, merely needing the maestro to arrive and direct their combined voices appropriately, so close he was, so close to being whole. Propriety warring with need, his own guilt and hunger, he was shattered inside, he needed it to stop, just a little.

"I believe this room has expended the usefulness of our purposes, come away off that table." Before he could move to act, the Baron was helping to lift him, gentle and careful, off the rack.

Fever-bright and panting, Daniel tried to decide where the Baron would want him next, the chair, the chains? The cross? Instead the man took him from the dungeons entirely, up and up, and then to Daniel's own room. By the time they'd reached it he was in a frenzied state, prepared to sob and fall apart, but the Baron did not leave him to suffer in this prison of silence, he did not give him up for lost. He sat in the chair he kept vigil in when Daniel's nightmares and fear kept him from his own bed, but instead of banishing Daniel to the bed, he pulled him down. 

He had not been put over someone's knee his entire life. His father had relished in the belt, and left his back a wreck of scars for it, but a true spanking was unknown to him. The burn of his thighs brushed against the satin of the Baron's coat and dragged against it, send a thrill of pleasure-pain down his spine. He draped himself there, over the man's lap, with his head pillowed on the arm rest of the chair, fingers tightly curled around the wood. 

"Why did you wish to move here, Alexander?" His own voice sounded so small and timid to his ears, and yet it was undeniably his. 

"I did not want to carry you up all those stairs, when I have finished I fear you will be unable to walk. I am sorry Daniel, I should have been more attentive to your state, if I had acted sooner, these lengths would not be required." Tenderly the Baron's hand skimmed over his backside, so intimate a place, and Daniel's cock pulsed when his night shift was pushed up around his waist, leaving him exposed. 

The first landing of the Baron's hand was glory, a burst of clarity behind his tight-shut eyes. His hands curled tighter around the armrest and a gasping sob tore free from him. Without wait another, another, there was no beat no rhythm, the blows landed as they would, until Daniel could only hear his own pulse in his ears and not the cacophony of his own ebbing madness. Still the Baron wrecked him, and when he felt as if his heart would burst, when there was no rhyme or reason to the pain, it stopped. He was sobbing, his face a wreck, and his cock was leaking, staining the Baron's slacks. 

"On the bed, Daniel." Tenderly still, the Baron was in removing him from his lap, and while Daniel limped and stumbled, he was still capable of walking, "We are not yet done." 

Everything was on fire, everything was bright as blood, and he lay on his back on the bed, his backside and thighs stinging with each movement that pulled his tight skin. "Please," Daniel begged, but not for a reprieve, they both knew what he wanted, what he needed was more, "Please." 

"Liebling, I will give you everything, just relax." The baron was moving, doing something with his robes, when Daniel noticed he was in fact disrobing entirely he nearly cried, to be skin to skin, to feel all that cold against him, like marble on the hot surface of his own skin. How could he relax with the man coming closer to him, climbing onto the bed and smoothing his hands over his stinging thighs. "My punishments never stick to you long, I suppose this is a fault of our natures. You cannot remember our lessons together, and I cannot keep you from unlearning them." 

The blade was silver and curved, beloved in Alexander's hand. His nudity was just as cold and hard when it pressed against Daniel's skin. The man wrapped his legs around his hips, pushing Daniel off his back, and then he slit open the skin of Daniel's inner thigh. 

"Say it again," Daniel pleaded, panting as the blade cut him again, so thin and fine a line, little more than a scratch, "Call me beloved again." To be what she was to him, even for a night, even for an hour, the Baron's fingers were at his entrance, even as their blood-play continued, slicked with something, they ghosted over where Daniel needed him most. This they had never done, not this, and Daniel was tight, a virgin, and the Baron was patient, as if he knew. Took his time with Daniel as if he were precious and coveted, and Daniel got what he wanted in that, for when he looked up at the Baron it was as if he was the only thing the man could see.

The knife dug into skin again, above his lowest rib this time, and Daniel reached down, curling his palm around the blade and cut into his own hand in order to take it free, to leave it unneeded on the bed, his suffering was too tightly woven with pleasure now, too entwined with the burn of his skin and the press of the Baron's fingers within. 

"Liebling, mein tanzer, beautiful rose, oh you have no idea how lonely I have been for you, to have you in my bed. Soon, soon I'll have you there too, but tonight - tonight," those spreading searching fingers brushed something inside of him that had Daniel crying out, body arched, "Tonight yes I will have you here. There, so beautiful you are, blossom for me, show me how I make you feel." The deep baritone voice carried him just as easily as the questing fingers and the smear of his own blood, away from himself and the buzz of his reality. "How I wish I could take you forever."

And the Daniel writing beneath the Baron in his bed at the castle, stroked mercilessly from within, till his cock wept and his chest burned for oxygen, that Daniel did not know what the Baron meant.

But the Daniel behind his eyes, liebling, mein tanzer, and Danny - he knew the truth of it, that the Baron would leave him behind, had already left him behind, even as he replaced his fingers with the unforgiving girth of his own hard manhood. 

Neither Daniel cared, could care, for all they knew then was the burn of forced stretching, of the Baron's thick cock forcing its way inside for the first time, taking him, claiming him. The delicious piston of his hips, too strong to be mistaken for elderly, another lie of deceptive glamours. The Baron fucked into him and opened him up, made love to him in so violent and ardent a manner that Daniel knew then what the man had meant when he said Daniel would not be able to stand. He would be lucky if he could walk tomorrow and yet eagerly he tried to spread his legs further, to offer himself up for that splitting rod, the heat of it ramming into him over and over. There was nothing but bright light in him, the light of pleasure, and it was of a heat that far surpassed his own mania. 

The Baron was beautiful in his pleasure above Daniel, not only giving but receiving his own from Daniel's body, and in this Daniel tightened, so that the Baron even faltered in his thrusts, moaning a thick slurry of different languages. His hands stroked over Daniel's chest, his hair, coveting him, taking him as his own, and further smearing his blood offering over the pale milk of his skin. "It has been so long," centuries, "You feel so good for me, liebling." 

"I'm, I can't please, Alexander, please-" he was so close, his cock wept still, untouched he was in agony, each thrust brought Alexander hard against that spot that had him seeing stars, "Alexander!" Gasping, his hands tore at the covers beneath them, his pleasure on a razor's edge, and still the man thrusted inside of him, so thick and hard, so masculine and unyielding. 

"Just a little longer, Daniel, just a little longer - you can do that for me, you are always so obedient," the cruel mirth in those words and still he was speared and opened, Alexander moving his hands to roughly part his legs further, and his thrusts came harder, the smack of flesh to flesh obscene, "Yes, like that - so good." Panting, the Baron was bent over him, thrusting still, bruising into Daniel, nearly tearing him, and he pressed his lips to Daniel's and then bit into his lip, forcing his mouth open with a gasp. The thrust of the man's tongue was inhuman, nearly as thick and strong as the manhood pistoning between his legs, and Daniel opened himself to it with a hungry groan, let it fuck into his mouth to counterpoint the cock spreading him. Cruel yes but also undoubtedly the Baron that he had come to love and trust naively. 

It was in the pin of the Baron's body, in the unrelenting thrust, that he felt the man's hand curl around his untouched cock and with the first stroke of permission he lost himself, coming hard into that hard gripped hand. The baron came right after, the flood of the man's seed a pleasant heat inside of him. When the Baron collapsed on top of him Daniel took his weight, arms sluggishly wrapping around him. In that blessed calm of completion the Daniel who belonged there slipped finally down into the dark, while the Daniel who was riding passenger took the reigns. Raising his hands to stroke through the Baron's hair, to touch the man's back and feel the rise and fall of his chest against him. Coveting this afterglow, his and only his.

He would remember this and yet not, in the morning Daniel would think he had wandered around the castle till he'd injured himself, the Baron would have already tended his mind and body to the best of his ability, what remained was easily explained away. He would forget the way the man had broken him apart, had taken him in his own bed, had absolutely ruined him and yet brought him back from the brink. 

Closing his eyes, Daniel lost himself to the laudanum, to his own completion. To the rise and fall of the Baron's chest above him, and the scent of Damascus Rose clinging to the man's skin. 

He awoke cold and sat up in the sad bed, his neck aching. No, he could not go another night with this singular sad pillow as his comfort. He unwrapped the bandage from around his hand that Dr. Seward had tended and took measure of the swelling of the skin, the mottled purple and green of bruises. He remember the marks the Baron had left on him, the way he had bitten open Daniel's mouth. In the pre-dawn hours his assuredness of reality, which had been so strong while dreaming, was quickly fading. How much he wanted the Baron to have desired him, to have loved him, that memories and fantasy could be easily mistaken for one another. He had no evidence that it happened but plenty against it. The Baron was married, he missed his wife, he'd left Daniel as unsalvageable. 

And yet the soft whisper of liebling, it felt too real, too pure. He could not shake the impression it made upon him, the Baron's decadent voice not dry with tried patience but thick with affection and pleasure, it was hard for Daniel to reconcile the sound to a fantasy, he'd never heard the man sound anything like that before, only in his laudanum induced fantasies, but yet there it was haunting him. 

Taking care of his bed shift, and how he'd stained it with nocturnal emissions, he hung it up to dry in the closed window and then set himself to make breakfast out of Dr. Seward's left over dinner. Shepherd's pie was best hot, so he left it to warm a bit on the stove and spread some of the preserves from his earlier care package on the day old bread the doctor had left him. Glancing at the red chair he took a bite of his bread and then addressed it in an even and conversational tone, "Did you bugger me and wipe my memory of it, you absolute tosser?"

The chair had no answer for him, unfortunately.

Setting upon his now heated leftovers, he considered the likelihood that the Baron had been more invested in him than he previously considered, than he had ever understood. It did not really change anything, for the Baron had still abandoned him, if anything it would have made the heartbreak that much more severe upon the realization of his treachery. If the Baron had been intimate with him the man had done him a favor by wiping his memory of it, it had made the entire event survivable, Daniel - even as he was now, bitter - was unsure if he would have made it out of the castle if he’d thought he had once been beloved or at least wanted physically, only to be cast aside.

In honesty what did it matter, whether he was beloved or not, he was still abandoned, still left here to rot in his own festering humanity, the Baron had seen the darkness in him, the evil in him. He had baptized himself upon Damascus Rose and been born anew but still he had that darkness inside of him, heavily checked and contained, he would never do what that man had done, he would never hurt and innocent again, but the taste of it was inside of him, the desire for suffering. So eagerly he had blossomed under the crop in his own dream and flushed he knew he would again, he would. The only time he had been attracted to Dr. Seward at all had been when he had considered the man’s ability to overpower him and take what he wanted, humiliating to admit but true. 

The Baron could be blamed for much but Daniel well knew that this awakening was not to be attributed to his ‘friend’, no, Daniel of Mayfair had this particular darkness in him all along. He only hoped in the grand scheme of things it would not prove to be his downfall.

Dressing and cleaning up his room he placed a number of reference materials and the candlestick into his satchel before going downstairs. Lenny was waiting for him, snacking on a pasty, and he wiped the crumbs off his front when he saw Daniel, “Good morning! You look chipper this morning, sir!” 

Daniel thought about the night before, he could almost imagine the flick of the crop, the burn of the Baron’s manhood forcing into him, and the praise of the man’s syrup thick voice pouring over him - certainly it was just a dream, but no doubt it had left him in better spirits than he otherwise would have been in. He smiled a bit lopsidedly and shrugged, “Good dreams is all, Lenny.” Bidding Mrs. Forrestson a good morning they made their way out and Daniel bundled himself into the carriage, tucked under the blanket, safe in the grey morning light and warmed. Daniel found himself drifting and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headrest he slipped in and out of coherency, pleasantly buzzing with a gentle sense of contentment.


	11. Shine on You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death of an OC in this chapter

Daniel drifted in this manner until suddenly the carriage came to an abrupt halt and nearly he fell into the space between the benches. Lenny had shouted something but Daniel couldn’t really understand from where he was, pushing over toward the window he braced himself on the edge and looked out onto the street. To his surprise Lenny was arguing with a somewhat familiar face. The copper he had helped last week was standing nearly in the street and seemed to be embroiled in a passionate argument with Lenny. 

“Hello!” Daniel called, instantly derailing them when the man looked past Lenny and saw Daniel waving at him from the carriage. To say that the blonde’s face lit up to see him was an understatement, Daniel was not sure someone had been so happy to see him since Penelope East. 

“Hullo! It’s my little fighting red-head!” The copper bounded around, leaving Lenny muttering, and launched himself up to stand on the step of the carriage, hanging to the door and window for support, do that Daniel had to scoot back along the bench or risk smashing his face against the other man’s exuberant one. “You are looking well today, where are you going?”

Daniel flushed at yet another compliment to his appearance and laughed nervously, “To work, at the university over the bridge.” 

“Oh good, that’s where I’m going too.” The man leaned back, still holding onto the side of the carriage and loudly directed Lenny to carry on driving. Perhaps in spite with the hope that he would fall off, the driver did just that, leaving the copper to hang onto the side of the carriage, but he appeared to be content there just the same. “What’s your name?” 

They never had been introduced properly, “Daniel Tremaine, formerly of Mayfair.” He did not bother offering his hand to the man, he was afraid he would actually try and shake it and fall off the side of the carriage. 

“Pleased to meet you Daniel, formerly of Mayfair, I’m Leon, formerly of Surrey, currently of Whitechapel.” The man narrowly avoided getting hit by a shop sign, tucking himself tighter to the carriage with a rakish green. “What are you doing living near a slum if you’re working up in the over-bridge? Shouldn’t you be in one of those Cambridge boarding houses?” 

Daniel found he could not help but smile, the man was indeed of a sort of optimistic mind that made it hard not to be carried away with him, “I had to reestablish myself after some time abroad. I do not think I’ve ever heard anyone call it the over-bridge, but what brings you that way?”

“Been called to help guard a crime scene, keep onlookers out and the like, your driver did me a favor nearly running me over, I was trying to hail him down for a ride but he didn’t seem to like the look of me.” Rather, Lenny had likely been trying to protect Daniel and his privacy, the dear man, “But now you’re giving me a ride just the same.”

Daniel caught then on the other part of the sentence, the part about a crime scene, and his good mood began to lessen significantly, a sort of terrible dread began to grow in the pit of his stomach, sour and bitter. “A murder?” He trembled, felt it all the way in his words, hope against hope. 

“Not sure about the details but it’s up at the college they won’t tell me anything ‘bout it, but Sanderson said it was a mess, whatever that means.” The copper turned his head as they came over the bridge and then grinned back up at Daniel, “Thanks, you’ve saved my hide again, Daniel.” And then he was gone, having let go of the carriage and jumping backwards, Daniel watched in shock as he landed nimbly on his feet and took off running. Pushing back into the window he saw the blockade that Leon was running toward, and felt the dread spiraling.

Slamming his hand up against the roof brought Lenny to a quick halt, the horses whinnying their displeasure at the sharp treatment, but Daniel was already halfway out the carriage, holding onto the door for dear life as the carriage steadied to a true stop. “Go back to the boarding house, I’ll make my way home.” Daniel called out and did not give Lenny a chance to argue, shoving coin into the man’s lap before rushing toward the blockade. 

He tried to reason with himself, that it could be anyone, anything. A jealous student, a lover’s tiff, an argument between faculty that got out of hand, a thousand different things. He was pushing himself through the onlookers toward the police line when a hand grasped his arm, and whirling he nearly pushed Warren over in his frenzy, only stopping at the last second when he saw the glint of the man’s cane out of the corner of his eye. Warren caught him up one-armed, held him, spinning him around, with his back to the university, and he pressed Daniel in against his front, hand strong on the back of his neck. He smelled like spiked coffee, woodsmoke, masculine and comforting and his voice came grave and gentle against Daniel’s cheek, against his ear.

“There is nothing you can do.”

Over weak tea in the staff room, near the blazing fire, Daniel listened as the gossip mill spun out it’s tale. The actual attendant for the Histories Department had come in that morning, bright and early as to air out the rooms and set on the heat. It was there that he had found what was left of Henry Wheatley. The young student had been ripped apart as if by an animal, one of his legs was gone entirely. Upon his face had been trapped forever a look of immeasurable horror, and the attendant had screamed, running from the department, refusing to ever return. It was nearly two by the time the histories department was free and Warren had taken him by the wrist before they entered, “I’m to attend a departmental meeting wait for me in my office, let no one come inside, do not go into Herbert’s office for the love of God.” 

Numbly Daniel did as Warren ordered, morbidly looking for signs of blood and gore along the floor, but someone had been in and cleaned it all up after the body was taken away. When he saw the test paper waiting on Warren’s desk, the one that Wheatley himself had entrusted him with, he collapsed into the visitor’s chair and wept bitterly into his hands. Fragile and naïve, so young and with no understanding of the world, barely having experience anything, and now there was nothing but the grave. The sting of guilt wrapped around him, thick, it choked him, and then no, no he was just choking, as his emotions dragged him down into a fit.

The blood came sluggish this time, and it gurgled up in his lungs, a froth that threatened to drown him on his own fluids, desperate, he coughed, coughed, till the blood splattered against his bandaged hand. He was sobbing softly in pain and grief when the door opened, and Warren took one look at him, pale and bloodied and slammed the door, practically falling over himself to get to Daniel. Hands dragged against his cravat, worked his buttons loose, held kerchief against his lips till the blood stopped coming, and perched on the chair arm Warren looked down at him, his handsome features stricken with his own grief, and also fear. 

“Tuberculosis, don’t- burn it.” Daniel pushed at the kerchief, cringing, feeling a crest of guilt washing over him at worrying the man, at endangering him with his diseased blood, tainted as he was. Tainted, that evil following him, that evil inside of him, his own darkness made visceral, tearing him apart from the inside out. 

Warren burned it and then sat apart from Daniel, leaning against the edge of his desk, arms braced on his knees, “I thought- when I saw the blood, I thought-“ Warren shuddered and closed his eyes, breathing through his own turmoil, his own guilt, “Do you have medicine?”

“Not with me, back home.” Daniel shivered, the room was so cold, or he was so cold - both perhaps. The trauma was beginning to pass, but that left him with the cold dispassionate walls of reality. “Warren, he was right behind me, he was- how, what, I left the Shadow, I left it, not one of my dreams has been plagued by that thing, what did this?” He could not help but feel responsible, and he shouldn’t have let Wheatley stay behind, they should have all gone together, he shouldn’t have left him here alone, left him to this end. 

“Daniel you must breathe,” Warren counselled him, for already his breathing was becoming laboured once more, reaching out the man collected his hands within his own, “You did not cause his death. Please dear boy, you must calm yourself.” Squeezing his hand Warren reached out and brushed Daniel’s hair back from his face, “Whatever creature did this to Wheatley, we will find it, and we will banish it.” 

Warren had spoken yesterday of destroying something before, and now - Daniel felt so far in over his head, but he already knew, no matter what it would take he would devote himself to this, to helping Warren take down whatever it was that had taken Wheatley’s life. No more innocents would suffer because of him. 

Together they discussed what Wheatley could have encountered, what he might have awakened, Daniel had yet begun to really sort through Herbert’s files - he’d just been arranging them yesterday, but anything could have been in them. Warren mentioned ancient texts that could awaken things like the Guardian, but that he was positive Herbert had no such belongings here at the university, “Of course what his friends from abroad sent to his home is quite another matter.” 

Daniel count not help but be reminded of the soap-stone star, such a disarming paper-weight that had proved to be precisely the kind of artifact that could have gotten someone like Wheatley in trouble. 

“I visited Herbert’s home before I applied here,” Daniel flushed at the look of quiet bemusement on Warren’s otherwise drawn face, “I did not find much of interest but I do believe that the ladies of the house would permit me to look again, I did not even consider that he might have left behind something dangerous.”

“You go and search Herbert’s office, I’ll check the library to see if anything has been disturbed that ought to stay buried.” Warren dismissed him and they both went their separate ways. 

Herbert’s office had been closed up, so Wheatley had gotten that far, this was not the scene of his death, but yet Daniel felt it was a piece in the puzzle, whatever happened here - whatever had taken Wheatley had some piece or part that was connected to Herbert, and Daniel, and this whole unending nightmare. The door had been locked up by Wheatley, and lighting the lamps the old fashioned way, he turned his attention from inside, the fear and guilt, to take in his surroundings properly. Everything was just as it had been when he left, save colder and emptier, the stacks of books and papers remained towering on every available surface.

He was only through with one of the man’s many bookshelves when the door opened again, and expecting Warren he greeted him off-hand, telling him he’d be right with him in a moment. When there was no response the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and freezing with a stack of books in hand he took a slow breath, let it out, his every sense on alarm. Slowly he turned, and yet there was no relief when he saw it was just Herbert East’s daughter standing up against the wall. Her smiling visage or relief at seeing him had been replaced with the haunted shadows of someone hunted. Her skin was pale, and her hair messy, her hands trembled before herself, and her glassy eyes were darting all over the room, desperately. 

“Penelope?” He carefully put the books down, “How can I help you?”

Something was wrong, something screamed and tore at him, his nerves were on fire, his instincts telling him to take flight. Get into the sunlight, get into the crowd, vanish and run, run, till he could not run anymore, till he dropped from exhaustion. The same fear that had driven him all the way to Prussia, into the care of the Baron and his blood-soaked dungeons. Stamping down his instincts he took himself carefully around the man’s desk. 

“Daniel?” She asked, finally seeing him, and not through him, and she sniffed, “I- I’m looking for one of - for something of father’s.” She fretted her hands before herself. 

“I am afraid I have only just begun to sort through his belongings, what is it you are searching for?”

She shook her head, already she was turning, “I - I shall come again.” She didn’t hear him call out for her to wait, or she did and she ignored it, for she was gone in a flurry of skirts and no matter how quickly Daniel pursued her to the door she was miraculously gone, as if vanishing into the wood-work. If he was not able to still smell her mourning perfume, he would have thought she had been a hallucination all along. Breathless at the end of the hall, looking for a woman that seemed to not exist, was how Warren found him, coming up the stairs, a book in hand. At his curious expression Daniel flung his hand out and past him.

"Did you see a woman run this way? I swear Penelope East just came to visit her father's office. She looked like she'd seen a ghost."

Warren shook his head, "No, no one passed me on the stairs, she probably took the other flight on the opposite side of the department. I can hazard someone told her about the murder and she was reminded of her father's death, not every young woman has my niece's head on their shoulders, or takes the death of a parent quite so well." He nodded his head toward his office, "Shall we reconvene and discuss?" 

Daniel followed him into the room, feeling a little sheepish for jumping to conclusions, Penelope likely had heard about the murder and remembered the loss of her own father, he wondered what she had been looking for, but as he intended to call on the family to do another sweep of Herbert's office he let it go for now. Collapsing into the chair he gladly took the glass of brandy that Warren poured for him, wondering on the state of alcoholism in academia, clearly the professor dulled his nerves with a dash of it in his morning cuppa. Even Herbert had a bar installed into half a bookshelf, although some of the bottles seemed to be for show and were unopened. 

"Little was disturbed in the library but I took out a text that might help us identify what we're dealing with here. I do not suppose that your 'Shadow' from Algeria took souvenirs and left victims behind?"

Daniel shook his head, "The Guardian did not leave much behind," shivering he remembered the state of the castle, "And it had a heavier hand, we would have seen some destruction to the property, I suppose." He also had a feeling that he would have known, he would have felt it, the Shadow was so intimately tangled into his subconscious now, and he felt it slumbering, deep and dead, always burning in the back of his mind a reminder. Men must not mess with things beyond their kin.

If it had been the Shadow here, Daniel would have known it, they were connected now as much as he was loathe to admit it, it was how the Shadow tracked him all that way, he had marked himself by taking the Orb, by putting it back together via some hellish yet divine intervention. 

"What book could possibly help us, Warren? I tore so much apart just looking for answers the first time around. Is there some form of unholy compendium of otherworldly entities? If so I must say I am terribly vexed I had to go all the way to Prussia." 

Warren laughed softly at his tone, which Daniel did not appreciate, but the man's laughter was such that he could not help but eventually be pacified by it, he was devastatingly attractive in his presence, and he had so easily pacified Daniel in the yard outside the university. "No, not a compendium precisely, but an account of ancient rituals and religions. Translated to German, have you improved at all during your stay in Prussia?" The tone Warren took was undeniably teasing and Daniel felt his cheeks go hot at it. 

"A little, let's see it here," Daniel took the book from him and then sat back, but it was even more tedious than reading the Baron's elegant script and coded words, when he was left squinting at the words he gave a disgusted sigh at himself and held it back out, "Do not laugh at me so." He couldn't bear the way his ears stung at the embarrassment, but to Warren's credit he only laughed a breathless soft sound and took the book back. 

"The heart of a true Classicalist." Warren thumbed open the book.

"That is not even a word."

The professor smiled at him, his fine bone structure striking, "I said it, didn't I; therefore it is a word." 

They argued about linguistics and drank brandy, and Daniel felt normal for an hour, until the sun was nearly set and he remembered he'd need to walk home, or find a carriage. "I want to head by the East household, check on Herbert's belongings. I've found nothing overtly dangerous yet here, but I'll do a more thorough flush of the office tomorrow." 

Warren flicked through his book a few more pages before turning his attention up to Daniel, "Yes, best you get home before dark, and keep to the lights - although I've never needed to tell you to - it's best to not isolate yourself until we've identified the creature we're dealing with." 

Daniel knew if it was his Shadow, it would not matter if he was in a full opera hall or an empty alleyway, it would have taken him all the same. In the same Claimed and marked he had been by that shadow, and while he could fathom the violence of the thing that had taken Wheatley, he could not the reasons - Wheatley had been so small and unassuming, Daniel as he'd been before the fall, but without the expedition that had begun his change. "Warren?" He asked from the door, and the man looked up from the book, "You should go home too." 

Smiling a sad and soft thing, Warren waved him off, "I'm harder to kill than I look Daniel, please do not worry over me." 

But he did and he would worry, leaving the university he raced the setting sun across the bridge and still he could not stop from imagining Warren in Wheatley’s same place, joining him in a pit six feet down. He finally flagged down a carriage and gave the address to the East house, out of breath with aching lungs he prayed for reprieve from his illness to a God he did not really believe in. When he was not beset by a fit he did not attribute this to his prayer, he did not have enough faith in him for that. 

The sun was a memory when they arrived at the house and Daniel stood close to the lantern hanging from the side of the carriage when he discussed with the driver how long he’d be, and gave half payment to keep the man waiting. He missed Lenny’s thick accent and loyalty with the way the man in the driver’s seat distrusted him and groused, but there was nothing for it, Lenny had been sent home. 

The house was half dark when he set up the front walk, looking up at the brick front it was different than he remembered it to be the week before. No longer full of light and life and when he tapped the knocker against the door he was greeted by silence again but of a far more pervading sort. As his hackles had raised with Penelope behind him in the professor’s office, he felt it again but far worse here. It was as if he’d held tight to some sea creature capable of being slimy and sparking all at once, his skin crawled. Before-Daniel would have turned tail, he would have fled.

He reached out and slammed the knocker again, listened to the empty house, no servants - no bustle of activity. He tested the door and found it turned under his hand and then it opened. 

Keep to the lights, Warren’s voice in his head. Daniel looked down a completely black corridor, an empty house. Best not to isolate yourself, a warning a portent, and Daniel located the unlit lamps along the walls. He glanced back over his shoulder to see that the driver was already gone, damnable man - taking his half payment and abandoning Daniel to the dark, but in this he had also left the street empty of onlookers. Stood beneath the half-lit house, he kept to the pool of light as he began to unwrap his abused hand. From his satchel he brought forth the tool he had packed that morning, the curved blade of the silver knife glinting in the half-light when he unsheathed it.

“A kris, is what we call it.” The Baron’s smile had been as knife sharp as the blade he proffered to his protégé. When Daniel’s hand curved around the carved bone handle it felt as natural as breathing. It still did, holding the knife in his undamaged dominant hand he rose his chin up and measured himself, felt the fear crystalize within him to a solid wall, the frenzy of his blood a power unto itself. Emotions were power, in the right hands, and he did not need a machine to make use of vitae in this moment, he was full of it and he was more than ready to hurt for this. 

He sliced a thin line into his wrist, a scratch, not enough to bleed him dry, the blood welled and spilled but he was clutching it in his hand and holding his own life in his cupped hand and the knife in the other his eyes flashed to the hallway. The house flared to life, the lamps lit all at once, the doors flew open, slamming against walls, a wind unlike any other flooded through the hallway proceeding Daniel and he watched as lose papers went flying. 

It was hardly breaking and entering if the door had been open, certainly he had that going for him. Sliding the kris halfway up his sleeve he took himself forward, the painful sting of his wrist and lungs driving him onward. Each room was empty, as if someone had come and then gone abruptly all the accountments of a full life remained. An embroidery hoop on the floor in the parlor, half a prepared dinner in the kitchen. 

“Hello?” He stood at the base of the stairs, calling up into the upper floor. No answer but there, there barely a whisper, barely heard on the empty night, a whimper a little soft cry that was being desperately concealed. He clutched his fist tighter on blood and blade hilt, he ascended the stairs. 

Empty rooms on an abandoned life, when he found her she was hiding under the desk in her father’s study. Young Penelope with her blonde hair a wreck, her face red and blotchy from hours of crying. Daniel kneeled down in the bright room, “What happened, Ms. East?” No answer, “Penelope, it’s Daniel.”

She looked up, glassy eyes, red nose, her exuberant carefree beauty had been dashed, destroyed, “Daniel.” She numbly repeated, and again, softer. Slowly recognition formed, a coalesced hardness that brought terror and understanding to her soft face. “No, no, no you must away! You must run!” 

He did not need her warning to feel it, the hunter in the shadows, too long had he been chased by the Shadow out of Algeria, he did not need to hear her cries to know when he was being chased. 

_ Paint the man, cut the lines. _

Something was tearing at the floorboards downstairs, neat claws against waxed wood. Something was coming, smaller than the last Guardian, but no less did it bray for blood. Something would be there soon and they were not prepared for it. 

_ Paint the man, cut the lines. _

Daniel pried her out from under the desk with his wounded hand, smearing blood on her sleeve. She was too weak to fight him when he jerked her up to stand, and he pulled her sharply toward the door, even as she tittered madly. “The attic, is there a way to the roof from there?” He threw her before him, away from the sound of what was coming, relentlessly raising up to meet them on a tide that was not of this earth. He spun around as he pushed her again, letting her go in order to slide the blade down into his hold proper. When he slit his flesh it was far deeper this time, his palm coming open in the center like some terribly blossoming seed. On the walls he drew esoteric patterns, wards of pain and power. 

When he turned around she had found the stairs up into the attic and yet was watching past him with a look of absolute horror. He did not spare the time to turn and see what it was Ms. East was seeing, he did not need to, he had seen enough for a lifetime of nightmares in Brennenburg. Running forward he bustled her up the steps, ignoring the inhuman howl of some elemental beast as it encountered his hastily erected barrier blood-ward. “Go!” He hissed at her and she reacted as if slapped when he grabbed her arm again in his bloodied palm, starting full body she jerked herself up the stairs. 

It did not matter if there was a window or not, there was nowhere else for them to go but up anyway. The attic was dark and oppressive but there was salvation in a barred window and an old lantern, only recently disturbed. Daniel tightened his grip on her arm and the combined welling of their pain coalesced into brilliant energy. He flung his knife-holding hand out and the lantern lit and guttered, flickering desperately it was nearly dry of oil, but past that the barred window crashed open with a force of energy that sent the wood barring it to splinters. Ms. East gave a soft cry of alarm before him as he steered her onward but his ears were not for her.

Below them the ward gave way, it’s energy was not one of a tortured man, it was not innocence converted to pain, Daniel was only good for so much and as it broke the bells tolled of their impending doom. The howl of triumph was the combined voice of centuries worth of victims, not just one voice but dozens. Ms. East’s terrified cry joined it, and Daniel felt his own trembling horror cresting, raising up just like that thing beneath them. Onward he drove them, one final rush that took them past the flickering lantern right before it died, chasing the starlight and promise of night air and freedom. There was no one waiting for them but if they could keep running, just keep moving, maybe they just might make it. 

He shoved her through the window I and her heeled boots skidded on the tiles but he caught her by the back of the dress before she could plunge down, her scream tearing the night in half, Daniel flung himself right after her, and dragging his hand along the windowpane he painted their last chance, just one more reprieve, please, God, please Starlight. He stood upon the roof and held her beside him, and when their eyes met they were one and the same, both mad and frenzied, both of them scrambling blindly in the dark for one more tinderbox, five more minutes of light, one more minute of life. 

“Come down from there!” A voice screamed out and together they turned terrified to look down into the front yard. While Ms. East would not recognize the man, Daniel did, for he had only last seen him that morning, the copper Leon, standing right inside the open gate to the East residence. He seemed just as surprised to see Daniel as Daniel was to see him. “What are you doing up there little red-head?!” When the howl blasted out from the open attic window he turned his attention from them, toward the window behind them to the left, and what he saw - no Daniel could not say, would not say, but it proved the mettle of the man in the yard for he jerked his eyes from it and did not run away but toward them. 

“Throw her down to me!” Leon shouted up at them, and Daniel knew there was no other choice to be made, there seemed to be no other way down and while a three story drop might kill her she also might survive but he knew that thing behind them - there was no surviving that. “Now!”

He did not hesitate, shoving her roughly off the side of the roof, her shocked cry dwindling as she went. Spinning he closed his eyes against the window’s presence, and held his bloodied bruised hand up. Don’t look, he musn’t look or it would take what nerve he had with it, he could not spare his sanity tonight. Already the tittering madness was rising up, a tide that was impossible to control, impossible to stop. The window warding would not hold, he knew it - too hastily scribbled, he had to give them time, he had to give himself time. He stepped unsteady on the roof back toward the window, back toward those braying cries and away from Leon’s desperate screams below in the yard. 

He felt it against his skin the miasma of it that breathed out from the barrier upon the window ledge. Sightless and blind, the darkness was within him and he was going mad from it, every instinct screamed at him to open his eyes and break himself from the shut up cabinet in the dark with his broken lantern’s glass cutting open his hands, but he was not a child anymore and he had done this to himself. 

“You would weaponize your blood against me, child?” Something older than death spoke against his face, he cut himself again, blind he wrote inhuman words against the window frame, he had never learned this language, never studied it, and it was found in no book no library, and yet he was fluent - the Baron’s steady hand and melodic voice had taught him. A multitude of voices, nay victims, snarled at him as he spread the flow of his blood like ink against the wood, finger painting his own salvation, “Where did you learn this?” It asked. This was not a Guardian but something else, he would not stick around to find out what, he took a blind step back, arms spread wide for balance as if he were a tight-rope walker. 

Below him he could hear Leon cry out in relief at the sight of him over the edge of the roof. Still with eyes shut his boots worked against the roof shingles, and then he felt the edge come against his heel. He tilted his chin back, opened his eyes to look at the stars above that had once carried Hazel’s words to him, there were no prayers upon his lips, but the words inside of him flowered up on his tongue, “One more night.” He asked, and then he spun on his heel and leapt off the roof, silent and eyes wide, his madness in the fall rising up to meet him, black ink that swallowed up his sight and mind.


	12. Tiff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel you useless homosexual.

Often Daniel had come to sit on the deck of the ship on the way to London, a lantern beside him and the bright starry sky above. The sky with a full moon was not black but instead a spread of the deepest inky green, blue, and on this night it was purple - as the Baron’s robes had been when in the darkest corners of the castle, a red dashed through until it was only a remnant of wine, a bruise of a colour. Daniel had wondered where it was that the man was now, if the sky had the same stars as his own, or if it was an entirely different heaven above. 

Had the Baron found his bride, had she waited for him, alone as long as he had been and just as loyal? Did she look at the stars all those years as Daniel was now and long for her husband as he longed for the Baron? Was the welcome as warm as he had hoped it to be? Spitefully Daniel had laughed up into the starlight and the twisted part of him that still remained hoped that it was not warm but cold. That the woman had moved on, taken a new lover taken a new husband. That the baron was as alone as he was in this moment, staring up at the dried-wine sky. 

When Daniel opened his eyes, he was laying on his back half in a bramble bush, half in Leon’s arms. Penelope East was crying to the side of them, her soft hiccuping sobs barely muffled by her own hand. Daniel kicked at the branches and then remembering the kris in his hand, started to cut himself free of the tangle. With one sharp jerk Leon pulled him loose and together they fell to the ground, the copper’s arms wrapped around his chest, his breath hot in Daniel’s ear. Scrambling together to stand, Daniel pushed his knife into the sheath and they each took a side of Ms. East and began to run. 

Leon was leading them, Daniel had no idea where he was going save away, save far away from the howl that had followed them into the night. Chasing one pool of light after another, one desperate gasp of air after another, one more moment. The coughs found him, his panic breaking in crescendo, not now please, he begged without words to the stars above, but the heavens were not listening this time, no more air. His steps faltered. Tripping as his struggling lungs took in no more. They were five steps away from them before the copper’s senses picked up the loss of their third and Daniel watched the man shove Ms. East to keep running and turned on his heel, grabbing Daniel up in his arms and with no hesitation he hoisted the man over his shoulder, Daniel hanging down in shock. 

He was still coughing, blood from his lungs joining his split palm when Leon finally stopped. Through his gasping Daniel saw the pews, the altar, the stained glass windows. A church, and he wanted to cry out that God would not save them but nothing came save more coughing. Here Ms. East joined them huddled in the candle lit sanctum - no priest to greet them, certainly at this time of night the man would be in his rectory. Good if they didn't run far and fast enough they'd be the only three to die tonight. There was a strong body against his back, Leon was holding him up, one hand to his chest, over the heave of his lungs, smoothing down over and over, and Ms. East was pulling his hand away from his face, holding him by the jaw with his head pressed back to Leon's shoulder. Breathe, they were saying together, the both of them, a chant. 

The coughing stopped, bone deep tired he lay empty on the floor, Leon's hand hot against his sternum, Ms. East's hand cupping his cheek, petting him. She looked from his cheek to his eyes and the dam broke, her tears flowing, her sorrow full, and she flung herself forward to press her face beside Leon's hand, clutching to Daniel's chest and side. He brought shaking arms up to hold her, and Leon wrapped his arms around them both, the three of them laying on the ground in a heap, alive. Closing his eyes tight he pressed his face into her hair and he let his own nerves catch up with him, the tears coming hot and hard, clutching one another they lay in that manner, till Daniel and Ms. East both had stopped crying, Leon a silent presence but no less welcome. 

"We aren't safe yet." Daniel whispered in time, when his breath had finally been caught and the tears had dried. He couldn't bear to tell them the truth, that they might never be safe again, best they kept hope. 

Ms. East had fallen silent but at this she looked up at him from her place laying on his chest and sniffing she gathered herself to speak, "Do you know what that thing was?"

  
  


"No but I know of things like it, I survived an entity higher on the pecking order I would say." He needed his room, his medicine - he needed his books, and the Baron's research. From there he could send word to Warren and tell him what he'd learned of it, hopefully the man would have some intelligence on the creature. "We have to get moving."

Ms. East stood, still cowering into them, and helped Leon to raise Daniel up. Daniel gave Leon the address to the boarding house and his hopes were hung in the right place, for the copper knew the area well. They kept to the dim lamp lights, to the shop fronts that had not closed yet. When they made it to the boarding house Mrs. Forrestson looked about to throw a fit, her eyes wide as saucers at the sight of him. Standing behind her cage of a desk she flung herself partway over it to get a better look at him. His whole arm was a mess of blood from the ritual writing, and his pants were torn at the knees from the bramble bush, he wasn't sure on the state of his hair but if it was anything near Ms. East's he was sure it looked frightful too. "Lenny!" She cried out, "Go get the doctor!"

He didn't even try and argue it, not when it took Leon and Ms. East both supporting him to just get him up the stairs. How was he to explain all he needed was a little time with his paperweight and all would be fine? Ms. East would likely believe it, she'd seen his warding already, unless she'd been completely out of her mind with fear, at which point then he would be best not giving her more to dwell upon. But Leon had not seen his actions with the creature, just the creature itself. No, he would have to submit to Dr. Seward's attentions earlier than usual tonight. 

Once in his room, Leon took over and directed Ms. East to get a fire going and the lamps lit, and appointed himself the one to undress Daniel. As he was so exhausted he could barely hold himself up, he allowed it, and sat heavily on his bed when Leon put him in his night shift. The blanket went about him next and by then Ms. East was allowed to look away from the corner for he was decent enough. Sitting down on the bed beside him Leon hunched forward till his elbows were on his knees and his hands were raked through his short blonde hair and he held himself there. Ms. East, came quickly over to the bed too, and sat herself nearly tucked into Daniel's side so that he had to put his arm around her. So close and confined, he should have felt suffocated, but he did not. He could have slept like this, with their warmth and pulse to lull him. 

"I was on my way back to Whitechapel after checking in on a friend and someone calls out at me they saw someone goin' into a house without bein' invited in. They were afraid for their neighbors so I go to have a look and there you two are on the roof. That thing, that," Leon looked to Daniel, lost and grasping, but there were no answers, "If it wasn't a demon what was it?"

Daniel shook his head, "I need to look at my research." 

Ms. East quiet and drawn, was likely now in a state of shock with the potent chemicals of flight wearing off, and lay her head on Daniel's shoulder a hand on Leon's knee, obviously needing to touch them both, "It spoke so horribly in my mind. It took them, it took mother and the maid, it took that student. I was-" she hiccuped, nearly crying again but Daniel reached out to lay his undamaged hand over her own on Leon's knee and she calmed, "I was just curious, I didn't know!" 

"Where did it come from?" Leon asked, sympathy in his voice.

"A package, a package for father came from- I, I cannot recall now, but mother and I opened it, and there was a tablet inside. We couldn't understand it, so I took it over to the university to see and that boy, oh that poor boy," Daniel petted back her hair, held her gently, "He read it out for me, and then he was howling, screaming and the dark, the dark ate him, all of it's eyes, it's horrible eyes!" She broke into sobs and Daniel muffled her against his shoulder, cradling her while still keeping his abused hand away.

What a mess, "What happened to the tablet?" He asked when she had calmed a little.

  
  


"I... I don't know." Ms. East sniffed and they all fell silent then, just huddled together on Daniel's bed.

It was in this way that Dr. Seward found them, his surprise on clear display as he paused in the doorway before closing it behind him. When he noticed the blood all over Daniel's arm he nearly dropped his gladstone bag. As it was he did drop the thing on the lounge and took off his nice coat, shoving his sleeves up. "Go fetch me hot water, get the cook up and have her boil it if you have to." Dr. Seward ordered Leon, who was instantly up and moving to obey. “Miss, I’ll need you to move away from my patient.” Dr. Seward motioned her to the lounge but she only moved when Daniel gently pushed her to stand. 

Dr. Seward took her place on the bed, already unfurling Daniel’s abused hand, and the flash of rage bitten down was the most attractive that the man had looked to Daniel. In that moment the man would have been capable of cruelty, and Daniel knew he was intimately broken to find that in a man attractive, although it helped that he was certain the cruelty was brought forth from the desire to protect and avenge. He quickly cut that short, turning his attention to the doctor entirely.

“We have had a night that would land the three of us in your care, dear Doctor. Before you hear the entire story do not pass judgement, but do know that I did this to myself.” 

The rage melted to confusion and a grasping desperation, the man was in the dark and did not like it, but he would not have the Doctor demanding answers from Leon or Penelope, they only had sections of the story, and anything from them could potentially be damning. 

“But why, Daniel?” 

“He had to, he had to, it slowed it down.” So Ms. East did have some understanding of what had transpired. “The blood stopped it.” She explained in a pleading tone, and Daniel bade her to rest, and speak no more. Curling up into the corner of the lounge she put her face into her hands and closed up, he could well sympathize. Oh to just curl up in bed and know no more, he would give much for that, but he did not have the luxury tonight. 

Leon brought the water for Seward and then stood guard at the door, clearly on edge and still working of the premise that they might be found at any moment - an unfortunate reality. Slowly the blood was cleaned away and the dirt rinsed from the wound, Dr. Seward’s hands upon him were infinitely tender and careful and the attraction passed. In lowered voice, he spoke to Daniel in an intimate incline, “And was it your Baron who returned?”

Daniel scoffed, “I told you, he is gone Doctor, no this was... something else.” Daniel took a breath, looked to Ms. East and to Leon. “Might you give us something to calm our nerves?” His eyes most stridently pointed to the lady nearly collapsed on the lounge, her whimpers were beginning to remind him of his own and he hated the sound of them viscerally. 

To Leon and Daniel there was whiskey, and for Ms. East laudanum. With a disposition unused to the drug she was instantly asleep on the lounge, he head pillowed under her arms. Leon had knocked his whiskey back and then fixed his uniform coat. “I have to confess I wish I hadn’t seen that thing, it’s still there every time I close my eyes, saying that odd phrase.” 

While Leon spoke, Dr. Seward sterilized needle and surgical thread from his bag, when he returned he bade Daniel drink more of his whiskey, “It will hurt to be stitched up.” He explained gently.

Laughing perhaps sharper than he would have liked to sound, he smiled at the Doctor, “Dear Doctor Seward, you will find me a man accustomed to pain, but for you I will drink this.” He rose a mock-toast and drank it all in one as Leon had done. The burn was instantaneous, and he nearly coughed, but it went down in the end. Turning his attention to Leon so that he did not stare at the stich-work in mad fascination he took up the thread again, “What phrase? I heard it only speak english and howl.”

Leon looked confused, “Well no I heard howling too, much of it, but didn’t you hear that rattling speak, what was it-“ he scrunched up his face, obviously trying to rack his brain for the sound, the words, “Tekeli-li-li-li, like a whistle over and over.” On the lounge Ms. East stirred as if the very utterance terrified her in her deepest dreams. 

“Pray do not repeat it again.” Dr. Seward whispered, “She has been disturbed enough I fear.” 

Leon turned to look at Daniel, he noticed that the man was pointedly not watching the procedure the Doctor was doing, as if it made him uneasy, “If you didn’t hear it, what did you hear?” 

“It spoke to me, it asked me where I had learned the lines I used against it.” 

Dr. Seward drew the last stitch into his palm, he considered how painful it would likely be when he had to tear them out later in order to use the soap-stone star on them, perhaps if he just waited a few days it would keep the man from noticing when he did heal it. That was if he even got that far before he needed to open it again to paint. His wrist was next and thankfully less severe, Dr. Seward bent himself to the task. 

“Little red-head, what the hell are you into?” Leon looked at him not with scorn but gentle worry and an undercurrent of excitement. Perhaps he had gone a little mad looking upon the creature, just in a different way than Ms. East had, than Daniel was prone to. The man had run to them instead of away from the terror after all. He supposed that might have been why Leon had become a copper over some other less dangerous career. 

“If only I knew anymore, this was not my particular problem, but Ms. East,” he gestured to the sleeping woman, “Penelope East, is my former professor’s daughter. He was lost in the desert on a dig. Something worse than what we dealt with at the East house was the likely culrpit there and I fear that Ms. East received something that had been meant for her father and her natural curiosity took her to the univesity to decipher it’s meaning. Whereupon, I can only hazard a guess, she asked Wheatley to translate it for her, only to find they’d called forth some terrible beast.” He shrugged, careful not to disturb the doctor, “I and another of my former professors were investigating on our own what creature had been responsible for Wheatley’s death. I wanted to check up on the East household, to see if I had missed anything in my first visit that might cause danger, and then I found Ms. East hiding under the desk in her father’s study. Shortly after that we made our escape through the attic window.”

With his hand and wrist done, the doctor began to tend to Daniel’s legs where they had been torn by the bramble bush. He hissed when a hot hand touched his inner thigh and the Doctor flicked a look of apology upward. 

“So you run around dealing with these things all the time? What a bricky piece you are, no wonder you’re bad to back in a fist fight, you can do magic!” Leon looked just as excited about this as he was over the rest of it, and Daniel was at once reminded of a dog his aunt had when he was a child, even though he could not remember his aunt, her name, or any of his other extended family, so fickle the holes in his memory could be. 

“I cannot do magic.” Daniel stressed, “There are wards, barriers, mathematical constructs beyond our kin, devised to manipulate and-“ he cut himself off with a red flush, he was nearly quoting a passage from somewhere, “You know it’s practically magic anyway, so it’s fine, yes I can do magic.”

Dr. Seward’s hand clenched against Daniel’s knee and then carried on tending to him, listening silently, soaking up their conversation. Certainly this is what he did with his patients in the Asylum sometimes, just listened to their mad rambling. But Daniel was not mad, not tonight or right now at least, and he had Ms. East and Leon to back him. 

“Wish I could tell the others back at the precinct ‘bout this but no one in their right mind would believe me. Still, as long as we don’t end up like that poor kid at the University it’ll be a story to tell my kids.” Leon cast his attention to the room, more importantly his gaze was falling upon the books, “Hell, you’ve got a lot of books, which one might have that thing in it?”

Daniel laughed again, looked at the piles, the stacks, the resources he’d compiled over the week and a half he’d been back were in fact a little ridiculous, he’d need a real bookshelf soon if his collection got much larger. “I have no idea, pick a stack at random and bring it over to me, we’ll start going through them while Seward fixes up my legs.”

“What, praytell, did you do to your legs, Daniel? Did you run through barbed wire?” Seward’s voice was laced in sweet sarcasm.

“Bramble bush, but you should have seen the time I fell into the roses at Brennenburg.”

The doctor looked at him, soft and sad, and Daniel had to look away. There was no hiding who had treated him that time, and he would not regret the tenderer mercies showed to him then, even when they were half memories or things he was recalling from some journal or other. 

Between Leon acting as library docent and Daniel scanning through the books, they made good time, and soon the Doctor was also lending his understanding of latin to the task. Finally, sometime closer to dawn than midnight, Daniel cried out his triumph softly and held one of his own journals from school up, reading aloud he felt his elation crest, these were notes he’d taken intending to tell them to Hazel, pieces of miscellania and mythology - except the myth was now their reality.

_Servants of the Elders, these creatures are mentioned in passing concerning the sinking of fabled Atlantis, could you believe Hazel that a creature might be made of that which had never had life, artificial and unreal? Fanciful and they are mentioned here for their repetitive language, unknown to man, only understood by the gods who controlled them, until they needed to pass their terrible prophecies unto us. How many legends there are connected to the city, it surely cannot exist yet Herbert is convinced of its existence._

“The repetitive sound that Leon heard could be it’s language. I need to send my professor word, he’ll know more than I.” Daniel had Leon fetch him paper and his ink bottle and quill, and wrote a short letter to Warren, updating him on the situation and including their details about it, Leon tried to provide a description of the thing but ultimately just shook his head, pale and unusually withdrawn until until the Doctor gave him another glass of whiskey. 

“I fear you will be tainted with my blood, Dr. Seward, you should stay with us, we can send my driver around to Warren’s home, wrap this up in some of the gauze just in case though.”

Dr. Seward did not even question that there might be some creature out there that could track the scent of blood all the way across London, as if he knew the truth of it already. He wrapped the letter up and then Leon took it down to rouse Lenny and get him to go take the letter off. With Leon gone, Seward turned to him and curved his hand around the back of Daniel’s neck, forcing him to meet his eyes, to look at him and really focus, keeping Daniel from deflecting or withdrawing, “Please Daniel, let me help you. I have a friend well versed in these matters, a learned man and my mentor. Herr V-“ but Daniel had heard enough with the Germanic title, he reached out and squeezed the doctor’s hand hard enough to stop him from speaking anymore.

“No more old Germans, doctor.” He laughed, manic and high, “I’ve had my fill of them. Warren might have found something already, or he might know what it is now that we’ve uncovered more of its shape.” 

Letting Daniel go, the doctor turned his attention toward Ms. East, his look of concern merely shifting from one weakened waif to another. Daniel actually felt a bit of relief to have that focus off of him now. 

“I am not sure how much more your friend Ms. East can take of this, she needs rest.” 

“She would be no more safe in your asylum than she would be back in that house, it will come for her until it gets what it wants or until we stop it.” Daniel had not looked at Ms. East when Dr. Seward did, he already knew she was barely holding it together, he had been there before himself and had lost himself entirely multiple times, only held together by lamp light and leftover laudanum. “She won’t find much rest until we take care of this.” 

Dr. Seward took a steadying breath and then he grasped Daniel’s neck tighter, holding him captive. When he kissed Daniel it was with the taste of whiskey and far more regret than he would have cared to taste in a first kiss. He tore back away from him with a bitten off cry, and the doctor rose his hand to Daniel’s hair, petting through it. 

“Don’t-“ Daniel cut him off, the apology was thick between them, he desperately wished he could move on, that he was not so shattered, because under these stars it was just him and he was certainly not being pined over in turn, alone and abandoned and yet he still wanted him, how much easier it would have been if he could have wanted the doctor instead, “Don’t apologize. Was it the blood?”

“I thought you were dying, your driver was in a frenzy, said you were bleeding all over, and I get here and I thought for a moment I’d come upon a mourning scene. Daniel-“ the doctor closed his eyes, pressed his face against Daniel’s shoulder, against his neck, hot through the fabric of his night shift, “You looked just like Lucy, God help me, God help me I thought I’d lost you too, your hair and soft skin, your beautiful eyes. All I saw was blood and I-,” he gathered himself, shaking, there were heavier steps outside, Leon returning, “I am sorry, not for kissing you, no. Just, I am sorry I can do so little to help you. I will not do it again, but I needed to, to know you were alive, even if you will never be mine.”

Leon opened the door in an overly loud manner and while the Doctor did not seem to notice anything unusual, Daniel flushed, he could take a guess at what had happened, and the copper had likely come too quietly the first time and seen something he thought he shouldn’t have. 

“Dr. Seward, you need must rest and you likely have to take care of your other patients.” Daniel gently brushed his fingertips against Dr. Seward’s wrist and leaned back in the bed. “As well I should rest while we await word back from Warren. Leon can watch the door, I’m sure he’s capable.”

Leon grinned, putting his hands on his hips, “Course I can, it’s my job to watch things.” 

The doctor did look exhausted and clearly he was in need of his bed, Daniel felt a good bit of guilt at the panic he’d inflicted upon the man. “I will return as soon as I’ve looked after my duties at the asylum and explained my absence at home.” Dr. Seward gathered himself up and his bag, washing his hands a final time in the bowl of water Leon had brought. "Are you certain you would rather stay here? The asylum is at the very least guarded and well lit, Daniel." 

  
  


He stared at the doctor as if the man had suggested he should fly to the moon, "I'd rather stay here, yes." At his tone the doctor shrugged and bid them a good night, even though it was far closer to a good morning. 

When the door had closed, Leon turned his attention to Daniel properly, "Want me to rough him up for you?"

"To what... end would that serve, and why have you even asked me such a thing?" Daniel had been perhaps expecting the officer of the law to say something concerning the kiss he had most definitely witnessed, and instead there was this. Perhaps he'd been expecting something more like hatred and less like defense. 

"Going around kissin' you when he's got a wife at home, highly disrespectful of you! If you hadn't had to handled before I would have come in but you've got magic and all so I figured you'd be fine." 

Leon was so earnest, so well-intentioned, certainly Daniel could attribute some of this to the way in which Leon had been thrust into their matters, Daniel was a source of information for him, a person of value, but it wasn't just that. Ever since the fight Daniel had found himself coming to the copper's defense in, the man had been nothing but happy to see him. It was almost like having a friend, and one he wasn't paying for. Far closer in age than he and Warren were, the man was not someone Daniel looked up to either, it was to be quite honest, rather nice. 

"No Leon, you don't need to rough him up. We're working through it at our own pace, but thank you for your concern. For me there seems to only be married men and strife, albeit I thank you for your care." He cast his eyes toward Ms. East and sighed softly, "Why don't you go ask whoever is attending the office for a spare blanket for Ms. East?"

"You should get some real rest, little red-head." Leon stepped forward and dimmed the light near Daniel's bed but did not cut it completely, "You lost a lot of blood and I'll tell the truth, I thought you were done for in that Church."

"I'll survive, but I think you're right all the same, I'm exhausted." It was true, the activities of the night before had caught up with him finally. Now that the flight was done and the come down had occurred he was a bundle of frayed edges and pain. Where he did not feel the sharpness of the night's deeper cuts upon him there was the ache and sting of abused muscles. He had not run about so since the Castle and that was months in the past. "Don't stand the whole time, bring that chair over to the door and sit." Daniel was turning already, toward the wall, curled up on his side. When Leon tucked the slim blanket up around his shoulders he sighed bone-deep and let go of the day. 

Sleep was not fitful but nor was it deep, he drifted, and in his dreams he recalled snippets of memories. Conversations from years past blurred with ones he'd had just this week. Recollections of places he'd been bled together with the descriptions of them that he'd written in some journal or another. When he woke up it was to Leon and Dr. Seward talking in low voices, and a woman's soft humming. He turned back on his side to see Penelope East was doing something with the stove and a kettle, humming quietly to herself she did not at all appear to be entirely present. Near the door Leon and the doctor were talking in whispered voices, Daniel could not hear what they were saying, only the tempo of it, the cadence coming through in a pleasant hum.

He sat up and groaned at the sudden pain to spark his brain and then settle in a frizzle of unwanted aches and scrapes. Dr. Seward parted from Leon and came forward to help him sit up all the way, "You fared worse than your friend in jumping off the roof Daniel, I do apologize, I should have given you a dose of laudanum before I left."

Daniel considered what sort of dreams he'd had the last few times and shook his head, trying to ignore the flush of heat that took his blood, "No Doctor, I could ill afford to sleep the entire day away. Have we heard back from Warren yet?"

It was Leon who shook his head, "Your driver said the Professor would come as soon as he had an answer for us." Leon glanced between Daniel and the doctor then, "Isn't there anything he might be given for the pain?" So that explained the pinched look of worry upon the otherwise unfazed young man's face. 

“Yes, I believe I might have something.” The doctor turned his attention to his gladstone and came free with some small round pills for him, which Daniel took with a gulp of the whiskey of earlier. “Ms. East, I believe that should be well brewed.” The doctor spoke to the poor woman in a tender and careful voice, “Please seat yourself dear lady.” It was clear by the doctor’s tone he thought that Ms. East was due for a shift in an asylum herself but not as staff. 

She came away from the stove and sat on the foot of Daniel’s bed, turning to look at him or at least at his lap and reaching out she took his undamaged hand within her own, “I am sorry I brought this to you.”

He did not say what he was thinking, that her father had brought worse to him and everyone else, that he’d brought that thing home to London and caused far more damage, he just gently squeezed her hand, “No, Ms. East,” she was not listening, not really, so he squeezed her hand and ducked down till he had her attention, as well as the rest of the room, “None of this is your fault Penelope. You could not have known what would happen, your father might not have either, or he might not have believed it.” Daniel was absolving her of guilt, a simple mistake - she had not sent people to their death to save herself. Hiding under a desk timidly waiting for the end, they had inserted themselves into her story, or at least Daniel had. 

“You are not responsible for what never should have been written, and it is not your fault that Wheatley read the tablet either.” As he spoke she began to weep silently, tears tracking the path of her cheeks, over her trembling lips. 

“Besides!” Leon spoke chipperly, “Most interesting thing to happen to me all year, not that I can tell anyone but you know, still better than running after the cutpurses in market square. I feel like a right proper detective, gathering evidence and talking to experts.” 

“I fear that all three of you are in need of psychological evaluations for different reasons but we do not have the time for it.” Dr. Seward hid a yawn in his sleeve, but then when he moved to see to the stove that Penelope had been laboring over his step faltered and he would have wound up splayed on the floor if it were not for Leon’s quick reflexes. Catching himself on the copper’s chest and shoulders he steadied himself, “I-“ he was cut off as Leon maneuvered him to the lounge and put him out upon it, “Yes, I should sit.” 

“I think it’s our turn to take our rest doc.” Leon patted him on the shoulder after settling him, and even put the throw he’d fetched for Penelope over the doctor’s prone form. “Mind scooting over there Ms. East, I’m going to take the foot of the bed and see if I can’t get some sleep too.” 

Rising along with Penelope, Daniel dressed in pieces, careful to keep himself better covered than he’d been last night when the men had undressed him. He still felt Seward’s tired eyes upon him but when he glanced at the man his eyes were shut, Daniel could not help but remember his directive that the man rest himself earlier, and yet he had not, obviously. With his eyes still closed, Dr. Seward spoke, “Daniel, in the kettle, there is a herbal tea. It will help with nerves, I thought perhaps you and Ms. East might benefit from it.”

Daniel took the kettle up by the wooden handle and gestured for Penelope to follow him, “We can take tea in the kitchen downstairs and see what there might be for breakfast.” He doubted she would be enthused about the fare on the menu but beggars could not be choosers and he was not prepared to be a gracious host. 

Together they took the stairs, now dimly lit by the mid-morning light, still though she kept close to his side, nearly clutching to his arm. The meal table this late in the morning was abandoned and the remaining breakfast a sparse fare: three slices of bread that only looked appetizing because Daniel was starving and had bled himself down yesterday, a few flimsy oil-soaked carrot peelings, and a half eaten bowl of porridge that hadn’t been cleaned away yet. Setting Penelope and the kettle down on the table he snuck his way into the kitchen and gathered some cups and a few better slices of bread as well as a pot of preserves. 

“I apologize, I know you are used to far better but working post-grad students take what they can get.” Daniel explained, pouring them both a cup of tea. 

“No, no-“ She shook her head, “It is fine, Daniel. I had hoped you would invite me to a meal eventually, you made quite an impression on mo-“ she cut off, choked with emotion, “On mother. She said that your clothing reminded her of father, in his youth - back when he was courting her and running off to the continent. I wanted to hear your stories, I did not then know what they might contain.” She turned to look at him, searching for truths that he knew she did not really want but felt compelled to seek all the same, he could sympathize. “What happened to my father, it was not what we heard from the embassy, was it? What happened to him was like what happened here? What took mother and the maids and the little student?”

He could have lied and given her some little reprieve in this nightmare, that her father had a bloody end and vanished in the desert, absorbed by some foreign tribe or lost to the sand, but instead he told the truth, “Likely, what we awakened in Algeria was worse than the thing we are dealing with now. It gives me hope that we might survive this without more casualties but I still do not know what we are dealing with and I have only had to survive something like this once before.” He turned his attention toward his cup and taking it up he gave it a sniff only to recoil at the bitter astringent nature of the brew.

“Pray wait my dear, let me get some sugar for this, it smells exactly as medicine should, mostly foul.” Daniel excused himself and went back to the kitchen, only to find the little cook sitting at the kitchen table, teary eyed with a red nose, she looked up at him and sniffed morosely.

“Hello Mr. Daniel.” 

He hedged closer, feeling apprehensive, “What happened? You are usually so chipper.” 

“Mrs. Forrestson sacked my best friend just this morning, Mr. Allens said someone had gotten into his room and took his cigars. But she doesn’t even smoke them and she’s seeing that boy down the street at the laundress’ shop and he doesn’t smoke that kind of thing.” She looked up at him hopelessly, “Mrs. Forrestson thinks highly a’you, could you say something for her?” 

Daniel who had just wanted sugar, now realized there was probably very little sugar to find in the pantry afterall, they were not the sort to make fancy desserts or house a full tea. He fretted his hands together, nervously picking at the gauze bandage on his left hand. “I could try, but I doubt that I would do much for you.”

The cook brightened significantly, “Oh I knew we could count on you, yer a true gentleman Mr. Daniel, and I knew it.” She paused, blowing her nose, “What were you looking for this time? More breakfast?” 

“Sugar I’m afraid, the doctor gave me and my young lady-friend some medicinal tea to take and it’s terribly bitter.”

Getting a shrewd look upon her otherwise blotchy face, she nodded her head at him in a conspiratorial way, “Not supposed to give out from the lady’s personal stash but I can spare it for you.” Going for the pantry she rummaged around in the darker corners before stepping back out, a covered sugar dish in her carefully cupped hands. He led her out to the table and oversaw her spooning the sugar into their cups. Penelope for her part looked entranced by how protective the young cook was of the sugar, and Daniel made a mental note to repay the girl the sugar he’d taken for their tea.

Before leaving with the sugar dish, she took a curious look at Penelope, and then she curtsied to her, “Mr. Daniel you bring the most interestin’ people around.” With that she toddled back to the kitchen, with Penelope watching after her, obviously taken by some fancy. Daniel watched her for a time until she came back to herself and then to mask his staring he finally took a sip of the tea. With the sugar it was at least made palatable and while he would have rather been drinking his usual black tea he could already feel the warmth settling into his chest and blossoming, the bitter herbs soothing his nerves just as the doctor had hoped they would. He thought of the doctor upstairs, sleeping under the thin blanket, fire-lit face in handsome repose. 

It would have been easier if he could have settled for second-best, for secrecy. If he could just settle at all, and was not so entrapped now by his own desires and dreams. If he could have would he have left them all to their fates? Penelope and her trembling hands, an orphan now due to the propensity for men to dig too deep. Leon who had merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Doctor Seward who felt too much for those he could do nothing to help, a slave to his own illicit desires just as Daniel was.

If he could abandon them now would he? He liked to think he would not, that he was not that man, were they not all innocents in this? He had just earlier absolved Penelope of the blame and yet now he was doubting his own resolve. Letting his spine curve to take the shape of the chair he slouched down in it, and laying the cup against his chest he let the heat from it pool past his hands to sink into his chest. Closing his eyes he focused entirely on the sounds of the city outside bleeding in through the many layers of brick, the rustle of cloth that was Ms. East moving, taking up her tea to sip. 

“You must not take offense to her for she did not mean it in a bad way, you are just far beyond the class that these walls are usually privileged with. For one, you are a lady of standing.” Daniel still hadn’t met any of the other ‘ladies’ that made the boarding house their home but he would not classify Penelope East among them in a thousand years. 

“Oh no I did not, I-“ her cup clattered and Daniel cracked open his eyes to see that she had put it down on the table and was fretting with her hands together, “I was merely thinking how far I am from home.”

“Certainly you have been further?”

Penelope nodded but looked to him with earnest honesty, “Oh yes to the countryside but never without mother or some chaperone. Never alone.” She looked to Daniel with a look he would almost consider wistful, “Never on my own so far away, I used to dream of going on adventures such as father had done, but it was quickly made clear to me that a lady was not meant for adventure. You’ve been on them and when I first took sight of you, I really did hope you would call again, you are far more interesting than Jerome Flintheart and his courting talk even if he is a viscount or some such thing.” 

Daniel flushed, feeling a bit off centered, but sitting up straight and putting distance between them would not be the proper answer to this, even though he suddenly found himself indeed wishing for a chaperone. “I have no estate or wealth to use for courting a lady, it is very far from my thoughts, Ms. East.”

“Well yes but you can do magic, and that’s far better than a tennis court or whatever it is Jerome is always going on about, and oh do please call me Penelope, Daniel, I feel as if we've known one another for so long, even if it hasn't been much time at all.” 

Daniel gulped down about half of his teacup and then put the fake-porcelain down upon the tabletop. Straightening up now he nervously smoothed down his waistcoat, “I’m not looking for a wife.”

Penelope sighed at him, “That’s a pity, you would make a catch of a husband.” 

“Wouldn’t he?” A familiar voice came from behind Daniel and he craned his head around to see the outline of Warren and his cane coming up the darkened hallway. 

“Professor!” Daniel could not hide his excitement and relief, and he jumped up, coming around his chair to take Warren’s arm in his own, and pressed himself into the man, feeling the surprised huff of a laugh against his hair before Warren embraced him. 

“I see you got yourself into trouble, Daniel.” Warren squeezed him once before holding him at arm’s length to look at him and then past him to Penelope, “And Herbert’s daughter, forgive me Ms. East, I believe we have only met two or three times.”

“Good morning Professor Rice.” Penelope murmured, sounding a bit put out by being cut off in her discussion of marriage. “Did you bring us good word?”

Warren glanced at Daniel and the look deep in his hard black eyes told Daniel all he needed to know, that whatever he said to Penelope, if it was good news it would be an absolute lie, “Hopefully, I believe I’ve identified what we are dealing with.” 

Daniel nodded his head upwards, “The others who have been entwined in our ordeal are upstairs in my room.”

As they went up the stairs, Penelope a few paces ahead of them, Warren leaned into his side and lowered his voice to whisper to him, “What kind of rat-hole have you cloistered yourself in?”

“The kind where the constabulary is not called when I come in bloodied.” Daniel ignored the look of shocked concern on his mentor’s face, it would do them well not to discuss the whole night prior in the middle of the hall. Not ringing the authorities from the bells was one thing but he did not trust his neighbors not to be listening at keyholes. 

Leon roused as they opened the door, but Daniel had to shake Dr. Seward awake before he could recount the whole of the night to Warren, or at least the parts of it he had left out of his letter. At the mention of his wardings, the professor drew pale and sat down heavily on the steamer trunk. Dr. Seward looked a little shellshocked too, and nearly argued with him and perhaps he would have if Penelope and Leon did not so ardently swear in his honor.

At length Warren gathered himself and nodded quietly to himself, “Yes, I can believe this. Especially considering how you survived the Guardian out of Algeria, it would have been some dark artwork you used then-“ something in Warren’s tone set Daniel on edge, as if Warren knew more than what Daniel had said of it, knew something of what had to be done to keep that Shadow out of Brennenburg that long, but his mentor still kept this to himself, “So yes, I can believe it. Blood is a powerful force when it comes to the occult. Blood is the life.” 

Dr. Seward flinched as if he’d been struck and paled, drifting back into the lounge he visibly deflated, “Nosferatu.” He whispered, and drew Warren’s attention, who seemed to only just notice the man was there at all. 

Shaking his head Warren took back up the thread, “No, no vampires dear sir, Daniel- why do you not introduce me to the rest of your entourage, the policeman you’ve already mentioned is Leon, but this gentleman?” Warren gestured to Dr. Seward, whose attention focused on him then and then stuck there, watching the elegant way Warren’s hand moved when he spoke, as if directing a symphony. 

Daniel had not quite gotten to the part where Lenny had been sent to bring the doctor back in recounting the story before now and so he finished up his explanation alongside proper introductions, finishing with a grand flourish of the wrist toward Dr. Seward, "And then the dear doctor stitched me up and we sent word to you, so now you're all caught up, Warren."

Warren gave him a thin and borderline annoyed smile but it retained far too much in the way of affection to really be put out by Daniel's tone, "Thank you Daniel, a lively recollection of a truly eventful night, it is unfortunate that the doctor and this young policeman have been caught up in our mess, but there is nothing to it now, you were in need of medical attention and if it were not for young Mr. Leon there is no knowing what would have happened to you jumping off the roof Ms. East." Smoothing his hand out over his knee as if it bothered him, Warren turned himself a bit toward the fire and looked thoughtful for a moment, "I believe that leaves the stage to me?"

"You said you might know what it is?" Daniel settled himself on the bed beside Leon, who had been dozing a bit during the retelling, no doubt he was still very tired. 

Nodding Warren glanced at the assembled, and then his eyes stuck to Penelope, "As much as I am aware you are intimately embroiled in this, it would do you best to not hear what I'm to say, Ms. East."

"It is my fault it has come, I wish to know the shape of it, and it's name, Professor Rice." Penelope's mettle was false, her voice may not have trembled, but Daniel could see how her hands shook where she'd hidden them behind herself. "It has already taken so much from me."

"I understand you feel guilty for bringing the tome, but it is our blame as much as any - if I had taught Wheatley not to read aloud things he did not entirely comprehend then this never would have happened, do not lay the blame on yourself, you had no way of knowing what would happen. Now you must leave this to us to take care of, you have experienced enough of these horrors." Again Warren tried to dismiss her, and again Penelope argued it. 

"It took my mother, it took my favorite maid, Professor Rice. Daniel said something like it even took my father. I will not go away, I want to hear what you have to say and I have more right than anyone else, I brought it here." 

Daniel saw that this would go nowhere, he knew what it was to bring one's own failure upon oneself, to drag danger to the den of a 'friend' or in his case many friends. He had caused the death of many in his before life by running and letting someone else tell him what to do, let someone else keep him in the dark. "Let her know what it is, what more harm could be done. She's already heard it Warren, she's already been close enough to feel it's breath. She might as well know what it is." 

Warren sighed deeply, and seeing himself outnumbered and no support from the tired policeman or the pensive doctor, he relented. "Very well," gathering himself he straightened up, "In Algeria you encountered what you've called a Shadow and what we both know was a Guardian. There are lesser constructs of similar formulation, creatures built for labor or dirty work - creatures unholy and of the shape of abominations. Leviathanian, cyclopian, deep subterranean beasts that were brought here or who somehow escaped from their otherworldly planes to delve in deep places. There they sleep until summoned by their old Masters, or accidentally by us. Or sometimes we just dig too deep and raise them up, I have heard of such an expedition of men digging for oil in the wilds of northernmost Russia who uncovered unholy noises from the abyss." 

Taking a breath Warren spoke in a wavering voice but with such strength in his dark eyes and the grit of his teeth, "Tekkeli-li-li, they would cry."

Leon and Penelope both recoiled, as if being slapped, fear and silence from Leon and a soft little sob from Penelope, but she quickly bit it down. 

"There were only four survivors of that expedition, and they wrote back of their compatriots being ripped to pieces, two of the four men went mad, and the last two vanished into the night never to be seen again." Warren rubbed at his knee, his attention falling from them to rest on the fire, the flame reflected in the unyielding black of his eyes, "Shoggoth, in that ancient and forbidden tongue, that is what I fear we are dealing with." 

Not for the first time did Daniel wish that the Baron was here. Just for once it was not related to self hatred and his own pitiful longing for his affection to be returned, and more for information that the Baron could have provided them. With gatherers and kaernks and who knows what else in that unholy plane of existence the man had come from, certainly he would know something like this, would know it's weaknesses. He knew about the Guardian and it's true shapes, what would keep it at bay. But no, Daniel was alone with only the man's many words and his own scars. 

"How do we kill it?" Leon asked, and Daniel was not surprised when Warren gave a soft thin laugh.

"Dear boy, we do not kill it, I would not even begin to pretend to be capable of that. We banish it back to where it came from."

"More magic?" Leon sounded excited.

"It isn't magic." Daniel and Warren spoke in tandem and then looked at each other and laughed, Warren shook his head again and turned to Leon, "I suppose it could be considered the occult, and so magic is perhaps the closest term in our vernacular." 

"My understanding of wardings won't be enough, it hasn't been so far." Daniel bit at his lip, "And I refuse to use the methods I've- I learned from my-" what even was the Baron to him, mentor, friend, neither fit - not anymore and not then, "My instructor, from before." It would have to do, but it was not entirely accurate either. 

"Why would you refuse?" Penelope asked, face pale, still trembling she looked ready to plead, "Surely nothing would be too terrible to banish this thing back? We would be saving others, not just ourselves." Her passionate rousing voice betrayed her, and he could hear some of his own cowardice in her tone, or perhaps he was just far too jaded and broken, to be hearing himself in others, or rather the echo of who he used to be. So easily he could imagine her in his place, taking the Damascus Rose just to forget, and would she have sacrificed her own mother to save herself? He would have, he had in some ways sacrificed his own sister - dashed that little girl to death on the rocks and so like Hazel she had been. 

He swallowed hard, shaking so that Leon must have felt it on the bed for he gently put his hand on Daniel's knee in support, "There are things too terrible, yes." 

It was Dr. Seward who changed the direction of the conversation, "So then Professor Rice, do you have any intelligence on how we are to banish this thing?" 

Warren who had been considering Daniel far too sharply for comfort, then turned his attention to Dr. Seward, "Please it is just Warren to my peers and friends, I would consider you both after this - yes I have some manner of understanding when it comes to this, but I will need to access some of my books kept at the university. It would be best if you all left to a place where your scents are not so deeply entwined, I came to suggest the use of my home." Here he gave a surreptitious glance at Penelope, "It is a more fitting place for a Lady of your social class to be found, and my niece can take care of your needs." 

All in agreement they were, Leon and Penelope had already gathered themselves for the adventure, but here Daniel tarried, "I would stay here, with my research." He spoke to Warren and Dr. Seward, who remained behind in the open doorway. He was imagining that thing, amorphous and unknown, sniffing through his things, getting into the scraps of paper and bits of paraphernalia he'd collected of his life thus far. It made his skin crawl, and if he left now everything would be in such a state, not to mention he just wanted peace and quiet for at least an hour. His nerves, despite the doctor's disgusting herbal tea, were on fire and he was just about done with people and beasts for the day. He wanted laudanum and a month of sleep, or to deal with things as he would - on his own. 

"Daniel be sensible," Warren sighed, "You cannot remain here alone and your research will be absolutely fine." He tapped his cane upon the floor in a way that despite not knowing why, made Daniel want to jump to action and obedience. 

"The professor is right," Dr. Seward flinched a bit at the sharp look said professor gave him, "Warren I mean, I am sorry your age, I feel as if I should be far more respectful to you." 

Daniel watched Dr. Seward's incline toward Warren with a bemused sort of silence, and considered that he might be able to get away with shutting the door on them and locking it if he was fast enough but instead he pocketed a few bits while they were having their silent tet a tet. "Alright, I will stop being difficult and come along like a good child." 

"I do not believe anyone might mistake you for a boy," Dr. Seward murmured, and held his arm out, allowing Daniel to pass before them so that he was bringing up the rear with Warren in the middle, "Far too indignant to be anything but a man."

"If you're going to be that way I'll go right back home." Daniel stated only to feel Warren's cane prodding him in the center of the back, "Oh I say now!" He would have turned around but they had already reached where Leon and Penelope were waiting for them at the stairs and he had no choice but to go down them when Ms. East grasped his arm. 

"Please do tell me all about your niece, Professor Rice." Penny spoke around Daniel, as the professor was to the other side of him, and he was most certainly now not in the conversation at all, even though it was being held around him, "Is she our age or older?" The herbal tea must have done Penelope far better than it had him, or perhaps it was just that they were now bolstered in numbers and flooded with sunlight. Lenny was sitting outside the boarding house, and Daniel could see his carriage nearby, as well as another with a far better dressed driver. Daniel did not much like the look of that one, but some of this was likely due to his loyalty to Lenny. Before-Daniel probably wouldn't have felt comfortable being driven around in anything lesser, but he was no longer that Daniel.

"No, no, Sarah is younger than you are. Fifteen, in fact. But she has experienced similar horrors in her life to what you have and I am sure she will be better suiting company for you than four men." Warren nodded to his own hired driver, "Ms. East you'll take my carriage and ride with Leon for protection. I will ride with Daniel and the Doctor." Warren directed and while Penelope looked put out, Daniel was inwardly glad to have her off his arm. 

Taking himself quickly to the carriage he gave Lenny a brittle and self conscious smile when the man came forward to help him into the carriage, of course he did not much need help but then again Lenny had seen the state he'd been in when he came home last night, "I am sorry I have brought you such excitement."

"No bother you are, Mr. Daniel. I told you, I'm your man." Lenny patted him on the knee and put the blanket over him. "Back to the professor's I take it? I heard 'em give the address." 

Daniel nodded, "Yes, we've found ourselves in a situation." He now had to worry about Lenny too, perhaps they should have hired an all new carriage, but he doubted the man would understand or appreciate that, "Lenny, do be careful of late, don't stay in lonely parts of the city and keep to your lantern." 

Lenny gave him an affectionate smile such as one would give their little boy for worrying about the monsters under the bed, "No need to worry 'bout me Mr. Daniel." Of course there was a need but Daniel couldn't argue with him, he was no doubt in the same predicament Warren had been before the entire expedition set out. Anything more would make him look a nutter he'd done his best.

When Lenny had left the door and received a second round of directions from Warren outside, the Professor came forward and Daniel watched him in perhaps numb stupidity as the man braced himself against the doorway, as if he was about to lift his entire body up without the use of his legs. "Oh dear," Daniel managed to say, only then remembering he could move and help, but before he could push forward to help Warren in, the doctor was behind him, "Seward, help him please! He's going to give himself a strain." 

Warren muttered something angrily at Daniel in a language he pretended he didn't understand but he flung his cane up against the other bench and stood back. Daniel could perhaps guess the real reason Warren had sent Penelope along with Leon, he hadn't wanted the daughter of his former associate to see him having to crawl into the carriage. Warren gave the doctor his arm, and the man moved even closer to him, his keen brown eyes taking stock of the situation.

"Alright Warren, I do believe we might need to get very close for a few moments." 

"Just get on with it." The old professor groused, and Daniel watched Dr. Seward's lips curl up behind the man, their eyes met momentarily and Daniel hid a grin behind a faux-cough. 

Dr. Seward was hearty and strong, as one probably must be working in an asylum, even if he was not an orderly or one of the staff more entrenched in the day to day, he was honed from work and Daniel had already been witness to some of this strength. Holding Warren from behind the doctor pushed him upwards, hands strong on his waist. For a moment Warren had his hands braced on the door frame and nearly lay back against Seward's body, Daniel perhaps imagined that Seward had pressed his face against the professor's short-cropped hair. He sort of felt guilty fantasizing about what it would be to be picked up as Warren was now, but in his fantasy Dr. Seward was faceless and unknown, so it was a little less nausea inducing. He reached out and took his mentor's hands as he was lifted up and helped him to steady himself and then helped him to sit on the bench beside him, completing the picture he put the blanket over Warren's lap as well.

Hardly even out of breath Seward pulled himself up to sit opposite them, a flush of colour down his cheek and neck. "After that, I believe I might not be remiss in asking that you call me Jack, I think this would at least make us peers or friends, both." The normally abrupt doctor had a hard time meeting Warren's eyes until his mentor laughed beside him and then Seward's lips curved and he was able to look up entirely again. "At least that's what my friends call me, Jack - we knew too many Johns." 

"I thank you for your assistance, Jack, and I fear you will have to provide it again when we are back, but at least you will be glad to know I have an easier time going down than I do going up." Warren's lips twisted in a teasing way and Daniel watched between them for a moment before he patted his mentor on the knee. 

"If you tell me the books you need from the university, I could fetch them with my driver and come right back." 

"That would be useful if only you were able to access them, I am afraid the librarian will only release these particular tomes to me." Warren rubbed at his knee, and Daniel wondered if it was the chiller weather that bothered him so, he had not seemed as stiff before. "They are in the university's collection as a donation from myself and are under lock and key, two of which are required to open the case, I wear one key at all times, while the librarian keeps the other." Warren sighed softly, "An arrangement I once had with another colleague and dear friend in Massachusetts, but he passed away and I moved here to take tenure." 

"Why did you leave, if you do not mind me asking, it must have been some time ago for I've never been able to hear anything but proper English off you, Warren." Daniel asked and received a quirk of a smile from his older friend.

"It has been nearly thirty years now."

At this confession Dr. Seward made a soft noise, "I can scarcely believe you were already a professor some thirty years ago, you look barely older than fifty."

"Oh no, you will find me closer to seventy, just a very well preserved seventy. I would say it's due to how I've nearly pickled myself on brandy, but alas I believe I owe my longevity to other means." Warren leaned back against the bench and rose his graceful hand to push back his hair from his eyes, "The events that led to my further understanding of the hidden ways and lands the were precursors to our civilization perhaps have given me a longer life than most. If my companions during that time had survived, I often wonder if they would be like I am."

"If you would permit me, I would be much interested in running some tests upon your blood - nothing too invasive." Seward's intrigue was clear and Daniel found himself interested too, but on a far more personal scale. He had already been changed by his time dealing with abominations, he wondered if he too would find himself aging slower, becoming more like the Baron had been. He wondered what had changed Warren on so basic a level as to increase his longevity and leave him looking so much younger in his seventies, the man did not seem capable of the same sort of vitae use that Daniel had found himself adept with, but that might just be because he was never taught. It had been an accident that Daniel had figured out the lights afterall, one borne of his own nyctophobia and damned memories. 

"As long as you do not publish these findings I would permit it, I must confess I have been long remiss in taking a doctor of any kind for fear of them telling me I must give up this or that, but a scientific exploration would be agreeable and soothe my own innate curiosity."

"I would hazard to say that you must not disrupt your patterns at all actually, something must be working if you are still this handsome a man in your seventies." 

Daniel arched his eyebrow and stared overly hard at his doctor, who flushed and stared back at him, Warren had laughed at the compliment and missed this exchange entirely. As the whole thing played out silently Daniel assumed that Seward understood him, his stare had meant 'Are you pulling my leg here, you just kissed me and now you're hitting up my professor?' and in turn Daniel was rather sure Seward's stare had meant, 'Have you seen him?'

Which yes Daniel had seen him, thank you Seward, Daniel was fully aware he was surrounded by peak examples of various masculine beauty every time of the day and yet was having fever-dreams about otherworldly tendrils and masochistic ex-Barons. Perhaps he was not an ex-Baron, Daniel didn't know if that other world had Barons too, or if his faux friend had held a title there if there were. Regardless of that, Daniel was aware there was something intimately wrong with him and he would handle it on his own time, or he would find one of the Baron's gentleman and make himself a husband of the man. 

"What do you suppose other species of intelligent life, as in not of our plane of reality or planet, what do you suppose they would make of gender and sex?" Daniel broke the stretch of silence, causing both men to look at him in varying states of confusion, "Merely asking a scientific question, is all." What if -all- of the genders of the Baron's plane had similar biologies? He had to pause then, for he realized that this meant he was attributing his dreams to reality, he was certain that was a sign of delirium for he had not decided if he completely believed his own narcotic-induced hallucinations, and yet already his subconscious had decided for him. 

"I haven't ever thought of it." Warren confessed and Seward nodded.

"But that is a fascinating line of thought," the Doctor said, "It would likely be determined by the biology of the lifeform, and then be shaped by culture. I suppose you came upon this by thinking of Warren's strange longevity? A changing or modification of the inherit traits of what makes us men does other our friend somewhat but hardly enough to make him an entirely new species." Seward smiled at Daniel, as if he were talking to a child (or in his instance when Seward was talking to him about his own health) and it annoyed Daniel so he turned to watch out the window instead, but Seward continued, "Many criteria are required to map out our humanity and what sets us apart from animals or," here the Doctor gestured toward the heavens, "Others."

"Besides, if we focus entirely on my age, the first of humanity lived lives much longer." Warren spoke up and Daniel had watery memories of too many numbers and names, all of them blurring together on Biblical page. "Perhaps I am wrong in my attributing it to my experiences in the occult or preternatural, I believe the term for it is 'aging gracefully' is it not?"

"Very gracefully." Seward agreed.

Daniel dwelled overly long on matters of gender, humanity, and othering, and was caught up in his own thoughts so that when they arrived at the Rice residence he was not entirely cognizant of it, and it was only when Warren handed him his cane to hold while he braced his way out of the carriage did he come back to earth entirely. Again Seward helped the professor out, but Warren was true to his word and had a much easier time of leaving than he had of coming. Handing him down his cane Daniel jumped down from the carriage and turned to give Lenny directions, only to find that the driver was already waiting nearly on top of him. Taking a step back in shock and biting off a shriek from flighty nerves, he jumped right into Warren, who when knocked off balance fell into Dr. Seward. 

"Daniel, please! Calm yourself." Warren chastised him as the three of them gathered themselves, the other two of their party coming around now that their hired carriage was on it's way off. 

“Are you alright?” Seward took his arm to help him gather himself and Daniel nodded, trying to regain his humility and self respect, Lenny took his other arm in contrition as well, leaving Daniel to feel for a moment as if he were being stretched on a rack, which caused the alarming reaction of his own high-pitched laughter and the spike of unwanted arousal. The Doctor looked at him in greater alarm and Daniel’s face went red as now everyone was looking at him because of his odd laughter. 

Covering his mouth with a hand he forcefully removed from the Doctor’s grip, he faked a cough that cut his own laughter short. It did nothing to save him from everyone’s concerned looks but it did keep him from looking completely mad for laughing without any reason to be laughing. If he’d explained why he had laughed then certainly that would have made him seem mad. Coming up beside him the doctor rubbed at his back until his coughs quelled. 

“Come, let us get inside, this air cannot be helping your lungs, Daniel.” Warren directed them, and then gave Lenny directions to pull his carriage around to the back of the house and wait in the kitchen where it was warm, saving Daniel having to determine what to do with Lenny at all. 

Unlike earlier in the week the house was fully lit, the lamps and fires all well tended. Daniel knew it was probably with the intention of bringing him back that Warren had left his home that morning, and he felt a warm sense of thankfulness for the man’s attention and respect to his need for light. Sarah took to Penelope right away, shorter by a full head she still had a presence that put the entire party in line, “I’ve put up a small breakfast in the parlor for the men, if you’ll come up with me Miss East I’ve prepared a room for you and drawn you some hot water to clean up with.” 

The look of ultimate relief and delight upon poor Penelope’s face made Daniel feel a little guilty for his hospitality but not much, he could not be expected to be on Warren’s level - he did not have a house nor a maid that was related to him. He’d done his best considering his house guests had been unexpected and he lived in a boarding house. 

Led to the parlor by Warren, Daniel helped himself to scones and devonshire cream, and sat perched on the arm of the sofa that Leon and the doctor sat upon, leaning himself closest to Leon. There were also eggs and real sausage, which Leon had helped himself to a plentiful portion of, while the doctor just took a cup of tea and half a scone. 

Warren abstained from breakfast but drank tea and took a few books from his study into the parlor after them. “Jack if you would look through these books for references to the shoggoth.” He put the books down on the low table before the sofa and the doctor immediately lent himself to the task, careful of the clearly ancient tomes. “Leon if you would be so good as to use your prowess as an office of the law to check the security of the house I would be indebted to you. But please do finish your breakfast first.” Warren stated the last with a tone of wry humor, but Leon did not seem to notice anything save the sausage he was eviscerating with his fork. 

“You gotcha’ Professor.” Leon nodded, smiling around a bite of squeak. “I’m good at breaking into things, so I’m equally good at making sure they’re not getting broken into.”

“Splendid, Daniel I am sure you could use some rest,” Warren began but Daniel quickly shook his head, “No? Then come along with me to the university library, I am sure you are interested in the restricted section. As forbidden as it has been to you for all these years.” Warren smiled wryly and paced toward the door, pausing to let Daniel catch up with him. 

Between bites of his scone he asked Warren what sort of books were so forbidden that they needed to be locked up, perhaps by the look Warren shot him, it was a stupid question. But the man answered him all the same, “Methods of summoning, descriptions of the pacts made with these demons, some of the books I have not even read for they come with warnings that the contents have driven men insane.” 

Nodding Daniel timidly finished his scone and hurried his pace to keep up with Warren who seemed to be feeling brisk this morning, Daniel could see why the doctor wanted to do tests upon him.


	13. Quinine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone is gay and everything hurts

Making their way through the university campus Daniel followed after his mentor, hiding his marvel at the looping corridors and beautiful architecture, he was not meant to be seeing this deep for the first time, clearly before-Daniel had partially lived out of the university library his first few years there according to the man’s own journal, his journal. But when they entered the hallowed halls of learning the books called to him, the library so high and bountiful with hidden knowledge he merely had to reach out to grasp. His steps idleled so a few times that he nearly fell behind entirely until finally Warren tapped his knee with his cane.

“I know you must have barely slept after that ordeal but do keep up, Daniel.” 

After that he kept pace much easier, fearing another chastising tap. It was not even that it hurt overly much, but the earlier memories of the rack were combining with the bemused exasperation in Warren’s tone to leave him with an uneasy frizz of arousal on the edge of his senses, a painful sort of awareness he was not nearly awake enough for. 

When they reached the basement of the library after walking it’s long halls and then down a narrow corridor, there was an aged man grizzled in appearance with thick glasses awaiting them at the end of the long brick-lined tunnel, as if he knew somehow in advance that they would be coming. “Rice, Tremaine.” The man nodded, smoothing down his waistcoat over the girth of his ample front-side. “Join me for tea.” 

Warren nodded and the man unlocked a door that entered a sanctum Daniel was now certain very few if any students would ever see. The storage and restricted section of the library was just as wondrous as the looping halls and high shelves of the upper floors but had a patina of age and an odor of must and disuse that was invigorating - here there were secrets to uncover, here there were words that should not be shared, and Daniel felt the call that had unhinged before-Daniel, so that he inwardly recoiled while still hungering for more, that Faustian gamble that would ultimately damn him again, or perhaps set him free if his consorting with devils paid off in the end. 

At a table set up before a brick wall with broken plaster crumbling off the front and an ancient time sheet tacked upon it had been sat a sofa and a number of comfortable chairs such as one would find in a posh parlor. Out of place amongst the stacks and decay of the basement facility was the ornate eastern low table sat up next to the chairs and sofa, as well as the full tea set out atop it. Scones, steaming breakfast tea, and a tin of biscuits. 

“Thank you for your hospitality Buck, we have had a busy morning.” Warren set his cane up against the back edge of the chair and took himself to it, while Buck instantly sat in the chair opposite the professor, leaving Daniel to awkwardly take up the entire sofa on his own. Not a second after he’d sat though, did a sleek furry form slip out from the depths beneath the sofa and leap first to the cushion beside him before boldly stepping it’s feline body upon his thigh. With a forceful ‘mreowww’ the black cat startled him into raising his hands up from his sides, thereby freeing his lap entirely. With one circle it sat itself upon his lap happily. 

With his hands still pressed to his chest Daniel looked from the small body stretched out over his legs to Warren and then to the implied librarian, Buck. 

Leaning back in his seat and taking up the tea cup that had been placed near to his elbow sometimes previously, thereby implying that Buck always sat in the same place, the Librarian gave him an appraising look. “Don’t mind the Devil, he is a good little pussy, but very possessive of visitors, of which he gets few. You are not afraid of cats, are you Tremaine?”

Daniel did not think he was afraid of cats, it was just that he had not touched an animal in so long, or been touched by one. He avoided Lenny’s horses for they were large and their eyes unnerved him, and the kind of dogs and cats one found on the street were unclean. He didn’t count the occasional rat brushing against him or nipping his hand while he slept on the boat coming over as an animal worth mentioning in any capacity, or recalling at all. Looking down again at the little lithe form he took note of the way the creatures eyes had closed in contentment and cautiously he moved his hand to brush a stripe down the supine spine of the furry beast, immediately he was greeted with the purring of the creature in contentment.

He was struck then by the sense that this creation, this little creature, was of a wholly divine purpose, despite its name it was certainly filled of some kind of purity and magic, at least in how entirely it had captured his attention and devotion. He imagined the people on the Nile who has worshipped such creatures as Godly under sun dappled paleta and he could see why such inspiration would take one when gifted the companionship of a cat. The Devil who dat upon his lap was not one of those Tom cats that prowled thought infested alleyways, this was a divinity sat upon him.

Buck snorted a laughing sound, “Heard word you need to see the books, didn’t think you’d be bringing someone along with you but I can’t say I’m surprised it’s Tremaine.” He had turned to address Warren entirely, “East got himself into a state.”

“Herbert is dead, Buck. But I’m here for his progeny, that girl of his brought some of his remaining mess to the school, Wheatley awakened something and we are going to put it back to sleep.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be going on adventures like this?” Buck grinned a gap-toothed grin at Warren and Daniel remembered the conversation in the carriage again, Warren was old and walked with a cane and Herbert had caused him such strife, Daniel had caused him strife too, and now he was steadfastly forging forth into this whole mess. Daniel knew that Warren was a better man than he, than before-Daniel entirely, and he felt guilt for dragging him down into this with them. 

“Oh I have some fight left in me Buck,” Warren leaned forward and took up a cup of tea, “What would my life be like if someone wasn’t making a terrible mistake every year or so? Certainly boring.” The dry way that Warren spoke reminded Daniel of that first day he’d ‘met’ Warren when the man had been livid with his mourning for what Daniel had been. The man who had seen too much and lost more of it. This was the man as he actually was, not as he presented himself to his students and colleagues. Far past retirement and still thrown into the fray because he was one of the few who were truly enlightened. Daniel could see if he were a better man a stronger man, he would have a fate like Warren, clearly the professor already thought he was following in his footsteps. 

“So which book are you to be needin’ today?” The librarian took another sip of his tea but made no move to raise from his seat, in fact he seemed to have slumped lower down upon it, eyes half-closed and if Daniel had not just heard him speak he would think the man was preparing for a nap. In his lap the Devil had begun to do a kneading motion with his paws against Daniel’s knee, pushing little needle-claws into his leg at intervals. Carefully he stroked it’s spine and tried to be very still otherwise for it’s comfort. 

“The,” here Warren said a word, Daniel knew he said something, but as soon as it had left his lips the memory of it was wiped free of his mind, as if it were somehow enchanted, there had been a title there on the air, something Warren had spoken and that had weighed heavy in the air but then the word or words was gone entirely, wiped clean from the face of reality, “And the Compendium, the one by Field.” At the look of dazed confusion upon Daniel’s face, Warren gave a sympathetic smile, “Until you read the title aloud the phrase is unknowable to you, do not worry, it will soon be known. There is no use keeping you in the dark anymore, Daniel.” 

“But first tea. Tell me how your niece has been, has she settled in? What happened to Wheatley anyway? I only heard he was torn apart by a madman.” 

They spoke together for the duration of a cup and a half of tea and the Devil spent the entire time purring and getting his allotted amount of strokes. Daniel fell to the cadence of the conversation and the rumble of the cat under his hand, so contented and at peace that when Warren and Buck stood, he felt as if he were being roused from a dream. As if sharing this sentiment, the Devil stood upon his lap and stretched with a great big yawn showing too many teeth and bright pink gums. With a snap the cat shut it’s maw and then jumped off Daniel’s lap, leading the way deep into the storage stacks. Rising up and brushing uselessly at the fine black hairs overwhelming his slacks Daniel quickly gave up the job for loss and moved to follow the older men deeper into the basement. 

Above them the bricked ceiling steepled in a curve, creating a long tunnel that slipped off into obscurity and shadow. This tunnel had been further divided by the shelving into sections making long hallways of books and other artifacts. It seemed that the library’s basement might perhaps be the catchall storage for the entire university, for they passed by great big fossil imprints set in rock, skeletal structures in boxes, and other old and moldering paraphernalia of academia. After a good few minutes of walking they encountered a wrought iron gate of ornate structure with three thick padlocks set upon it. To these three locks Buck inserted a different key each from his overflowing keyring, pulled forth from a hidden pocket in his jacket’s inner-lining. Daniel marveled that the man had not jangled the entire way, for his keyring had dozens of keys and other unlocking mechanisms upon it, and when he took it free of his pocket it made such a clattering of sound that echoed up and down the entire long corridor.

Between the iron bars of the gate the Devil passed through, his slim body the exact size to slip inside the gated room that had been made of the rounded end of the basement tunnel. Through the bars Daniel could see ancient shelves of carved wood, a number of thick block-style safes and a single cabinet with an odd type of locking mechanism upon it. When Buck swung the door open it caused a howl of a creek that set his teeth on edge and sent a shiver down his spine, so oppressive was the sound. This was not just the creek of ancient hinges, it was a warning. 

Buck put out his arm and held the gate open for them, and Daniel followed obediently after Warren, the tap of their footsteps on the brick floor soon muffled by very old carpet. Behind them Buck came and then shut the door, locking it again from the inside. Daniel bit down the sudden desire to flee, the feeling of being trapped and hunted was a frenzy inside of him, a buzz upon his nerves that set him on razor’s edge and had him longing for sunlight and open windows. He had been in a cell before and while this prison was better decorated he remembered awakening in that place with his life ticking down like a well-wound clock before him, again he felt his mortality, the clock was running out again, but it was not this basement cell or the creature Penelope had awakened that chased him by way of countdown, he was afraid it was himself.

Buck moved past him in the hushed silence and together he and Warren went to the cabinet, they aligned two keys and together took to turning the complex lock to open it. With a sound like clockwork a great many gears clicked and scraped together and the lock not only came undone but the mechanism divided itself in half and moved aside entirely, each half sliding toward the middle of it’s corresponding door in the divided structure. Here Warren took one handle while Buck took the other and they pulled together, opening the cabinet with an audible clicking of more mechanisms giving way.

There were four objects in the cabinet but it was the smallest and most dull that caught Daniel’s attention and held it riveted, his mouth going dry. He remembered in that very moment the dry sound of Agrippa’s wit and dark humor, the hopeful tone of Weyer and the silhouette the man had left behind, and then last of all was the voice that haunted him most, decadent Alexander with the gold-lined tenor. The orbs and the gateways, the betrayal of ages, forced exiles and Daniel’s own self-imposed one, and the mention of one singular object that had been the start of it all. 

The traveler’s locket.

Sitting on top of three elaborate and aged manuscripts of varying decoration was a singular dull grey-black stone, a murky quartz of nondescript formation. It held no drawing power, no glint or spark within it’s unassuming form. Pendulum shaped nearly, with dull edges, not smooth per say but also not honed to a finish, at one end it was roughly shaped as if broken from a larger piece and as the other the six sides of the stone came to a dulled point. Daniel trembled where he stood two feet behind the two men, in the direct center of them before this unassuming stone. Warren asked him something but all he heard in his ears was the rushing of his own blood. It was not until the Devil rubbed up against his leg did he break from his trance.

“What?” Daniel murmured, his voice so rough and dry, he felt like he hadn’t spoken in days, he felt like he was going to go mad again. Around the edges of his vision were the familiar creeping black fingers, the swirls of something wrong deep inside of him, and with an inhuman effort he finally pulled his gaze free of the stone, to stare down at the Devil, who was looking up at him from his place standing on the toe of one of Daniel’s boots, a brightness in his little green eyes as if to say, ‘Yes, it is time to come back now.’

“I asked if you were alright, you look faint. I promise you these artifacts have no power standing where they are, you need not be so fearful, Daniel.” Warren’s sympathy was kind but unwarranted. 

Shaking his head Daniel gave a nervous laugh, “No, it was just that stone reminded me of something, something in Algeria.” 

Warren turned his gaze from Daniel to the cabinets contents, “You needn’t worry Daniel, the master of this particular stone was torn to pieces by a frenzied guard dog. It is merely here so that it cannot be used for any other similar purposes, but also so that I might get it tested eventually to understand the properties of it.” Warren sighed softly, “Or the inheritor of my legacy might, I fear that the science behind these things does not progress as quickly as I would like. The minerals department talks highly of their field but they’re being funded by the coal miners, it isn’t as if they’re interested in odd quartz pendants.”

Daniel knew just as he knew he had to get away from here, from London and People, he knew just in that way that whoever was ripped up by a dog was not the original master of this stone. He had loved that man and watched him leave him, and he’d almost lost everything including his sanity and life for him. This was a component in the Baron’s Traveler’s Locket and Daniel knew it. 

Nodding he crouched down, scratching behind the Devil’s ears fondly, “Yes of course Warren, I am sorry, it was just a bad memory.” The cat purred under his touch and Buck watched him with amusement. 

“He’s taken a liking to you, that’s an ill omen.” Buck snorted, grinning with his malshapened teeth, “He only likes the trouble makers with a little devil in themselves. You must be some kind of sinner, Tremaine.”

Mouth dry and hand trembling against soft fur Daniel forced a smile and steadied his voice, “Are we not all sinners, Buck?”

The librarian laughed at this and nodded, “Yes, that’s why the cat followed me here I assume too.” 

From the cabinet Warren drew one of the books, and from a shelf nearby he took another. Taking the two books to a lectern in the corner of the little room he placed them both upon the large worn surface. Both books held nothing by the way of title, and while one was of a dull black leather with inlaid gems and metal embossing the other was stitched together pieces of what appeared to be scrap leather and thick twine - unadorned and almost simple, it had metal bracketing the edges of the cover and a strap that buckled it shut. Warren stood to the side and then beckoned Daniel forward, “If you do not open it, you will be unable to read the contents even if you know the language it’s written in.” 

This should be considered magic, certainly before-Daniel would have thought it as such, and the mysticism and oddness of it even now was magical but Daniel attributed it more toward otherworldly properties. If there was a term that could encompass something otherworldly to replace magical he did not know it but in this he would defer to what he could only call it all, Magical. Stepping up to the occult tome his hands trembled a little when undoing the strap. Even the Devil had stayed back from this thing, and Daniel did not blame him. The book’s leather felt odd and supple under his fingertips as he drew the strap free and then smoothed the cover down, to his side Warren shuddered as if in revulsion. 

Opening the book Daniel’s vision swam momentarily. Just as swiftly as the disorientation came did it clear and turning the empty cover page he brought himself to the title page. ‘Necronomicon’ was written in plain script, and the book once opened was clearly missing substantial sections of it; Daniel felt a feeling of nausea nearly overcome him and the taste of blood and bile upon his tongue. Stepping back he gathered himself, allowing Warren to take back the pride of place at the front of the lectern. Buck seemed disinterested by the contents, perhaps on purpose and had turned from them to lean against the bars of the cell, letting the Devil play with the tassels on the long scarf draped around his shoulders. Warren gently moved Daniel to take up the place beside him, standing close together their arms touched and he was comforted by the sweet cream and tea scent of his friend. 

Turning the title page revealed another mostly empty page, with a single passage embossed upon the center of it’s upper half. Warren read it aloud with a dour and serious expression, as if reciting a spell he had no other choice but to cast.

“That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange eons even death may die.”

“What does that mean?” Daniel whispered at his side, glancing at Warren.

In a somber and hushed tone Warren bade him be silent, and turned the pages quickly then, never letting his touch dwell long upon the passages, flowing through them like water. His disgust for the text was a wonder to Daniel, for there were no unholy illustrations of torture here, from what glimpses of text Daniel read it was entirely devoid of the kind of horrors he had experienced first hand. He could not explain his own repulsed reaction to the text just on this basis, there appeared to be no reason for him to fear it in such a manner. 

Until of course Warren turned a page and Daniel was struck by the pattern of wardings etched upon the page, so close it was nearly identical to the careful lines that the Baron had so ‘patiently’ taught him to cut. Daniel nearly gagged at the memory but then the page had been turned and more unknowable paintings were placed, each more complex. Finally Warren stopped turning the pages and left it open on a similar rune-lined page.

“Where did you learn your blood-warding Daniel?” Warren asked him from his side, turning half-towards him, the usual amiable tone of his friend’s voice had been replaced by something on edge, the worry he’d spoken with in the boarding house had faded as logic prevailed. “Who taught you this?” Warren tapped the book, “You know some of these spells already do you not.” That last was not at all stated as a question but a recitation of fact. Daniel could not bring himself to look at Warren, instead focusing on the cover of the other more ornate book. 

“The Baron Alexander, in Prussia. One of Herbert’s benefactors and friends.”

“A man who knew better than to give Herbert the information I denied him, since he clearly held it, if he was able to teach you these workings.” Warren reached out and gently took Daniel’s arm in his hand, letting his cane rest against the lectern. To this intimate moment Buck turned away entirely, as if such human emotions bored him, for a man who spent most of his life with books and appeared to be unwed this did not surprise Daniel much. “You must tell me eventually, how you came to learn this unholy work, Daniel. But I will not make you relive those pains now.”

Swallowing thickly, Daniel shut his eyes tight for a moment to gather himself, collecting his hectic thoughts and his quickened breath. Everything he did was to save his own skin, he never would again, better to perish in madness and obscurity than to take a single innocent soul with him. But the sin remained in his blood, changed him, and here he was, still trying to flee from his remaining humanity lest it tear him apart. If only to be left alone, to be able to move on, he would give up anything.

But he had already given up everything and it had changed nothing, only left him with the sins written into his soul and damascus rose tinted memories. 

“Are you sure you want this? To continue on with this work?” Warren squeezed his arm and Daniel’s eyes flew open, riveted to the page.

“Yes. There is no other better prepared for it. I do not disparage your ability but you are less hale than you look, strong certainly but your leg limits your ability.”

“I was not the one who worked the magic before, our-“ Warren’s lips twisted in a combined bitter wistfulness, and then softened as he looked at Daniel directly, his upper body angled entirely toward him, “Mage, our mage was dear Armitage.” Warren let his grip on Daniel’s arm drop, the mourning in him a palpable thing, it weighed as heavy as a shroud. “Armitage was adept at such quick work, no doubt he would have liked you.” 

“Get on with it, Warren.” Buck cut the heavy air with little tact and the professor shot him a bemused if vexed glance. 

“Very well, Daniel if you agree to attend to this, please study the page carefully and imprint it upon your memory.” As he directed Daniel, Warren took his attention to the other book and quickly skimmed through it’s thick pages. Far better kept than the Necronomicon had been, Daniel caught a glimpse of the title page before it was flicked away, ‘Compendi De Ebion’ this must have been the compendium that Warren had mentioned. 

Taking himself to the task that Warren had given him, Daniel forced himself to look upon the lines painted upon the page, even as his skin crawled and his pulse raced. Beside him Warren quickly turned pages and he refused to allow his attention to wander to the pages and away from that which he must remember. It was more complex than even the most intricate ‘painting’ that the Baron had taught him. A work of precisely drawn lines and swirls, bisecting patterns and unknowable geometric formations. There was a science here, a mathematical equation that was beyond the comprehension of men. Just looking at the pattern slowly drained the edges of his vision, dragging it down into grey and then to black. He felt the scream welling up in the center of his chest, raising up and up, a goblet ready to overfill with bloody frothed wine. 

Before he could scream Warren drew him sharply into the side, pressed Daniel’s face to his shoulder just as he had the morning before, and held him as the sobs wracked him. “You will never forget it now, that’s my boy. You are so strong.”

Daniel choked down his own cresting fear and the thick sobs, humiliated he clutched to Warren’s side until he heard the book snap shut. Behind them Buck huffed a snorting sound of derision that further embarrassed him, but Warren just continued to comfort him quietly, almost rocking him. “You have done well, Daniel.” 

No, he hadn’t, but he had done it all the same, and he was glad now he had not let Warren do this. To learn those lines and brand them into his mind, let the scars sink into an already scarred soul, let him be the one to hold this knowledge. If he could he would take the whole book into himself, take it to his grave if it would save another soul, another little girl from someone like who he was never meant to be but had become anyway. 

Quickly he regained himself spurred by the uncomfortable feeling of being judged, by the humiliation of his own breakdown. He gathered himself and drew away from Warren, who then turned their attention to the compendium but Daniel was terrible with French and could not read as quickly as his mentor, who took pity on him and read the passage aloud for him.

“The Shoggoth - great servants and world workers, to command. Upon true marble and gold the warding and then the doorway. Through the doorway the summoner may bring.” Warren hummed a bit, chewing over the passage in thought, “Wherever it was from before now, that’s the doorway I assume, if we are able we can drive it back through.” Sighing Warren turned a few more pages but seemed to find nothing more to help them, “Marble and gold, we can use the marble floor of the university foyer.”

Behind them Buck snorted again, “Nay you can’t, it isn’t real.” He turned then finally and Daniel had the sudden strike of understanding that it was not the emotion Buck had turned from, the man was grey and pale, all bravado that was as empty as the night, Daniel was incensed with a quick snap of fury for how Buck had humiliated him before, when the man could not even bring himself to look at the words at all. 

Warren’s sigh and the snapping of the book shut drew Daniel from his anger, “Cheapskates, and they continuously raise the tuition, for what I’ll ask you, as they do not pay us a tuppence more.” He took the compendium back to the shelf, and then carried the Necronomicon to the cabinet; when safely inside Buck came forward to help him lock it again, Daniel tamping down the loss at seeing another part of the Baron denied him as the stone was trapped away. 

The Devil followed them all the way back through the basement and Warren waved off Buck’s offer of more refreshment, “We have too much to prepare for.” Warren huffed out, “A genuine marble slab begin enough for one. Good day Buck, try not to put anyone to sleep.”

As they took the stairs Warren sent him a few heavy glances, midway up the long slope he spoke, “You did not scream.”

“Should I of?” Daniel trembled, keeping his eyes up, toward the top of the stairs, the light of windows a promise, the warmth of the sun and freedom. He could not understand how that cat could stand it down there forever, nowhere warm to lay but the lap of stray visitors of which there were few. 

“Armitage did, and he was older and forgive me for saying so, but sturdier in constitution. Again I am struck by the transition you have made, and am saddened all the same. But I suppose I must also be thankful that you are so changed, I am certain Ms. East would be dead if it were not for you.”

“She did not know what it was she held, she knows very little and cannot ever comprehend it.” Daniel sighed, “I could not once, so I know, and to know it changed me. I would not inflict that upon another soul, she would be better off dead or completely insane.” 

Giving him a concerned and soft look, Warren spoke with reproach, “How can you speak in such a hopeless way, Daniel? Life is worth everything.”

No, Daniel thought, his life was not worth everything, but to explain his meaning would damn him in the eyes of his mentor and one of his sole friends. “It is just this place, Warren, I do not like the dimness of it, I long for the sunlight once more.”

Warren bid them to move a bit more briskly and they soon came back into the library and from there they passed into the clear early afternoon air. Somehow more time had passed than Daniel had accounted for, and he knew then he must have been staring at that book far longer than he had thought. He recalled his own words floating on journal page, describing the way he had lost time in the Algerian tomb. The maddening night he spent with the orb when somehow he awakened from that frenzy to find a repaired object and no recollection of how it happened. 

The feeling of being out of place and time did not fade until they had come back to the house entirely and Daniel sighted Leon in the backyard helping Sarah to hang up Penelope’s dress - it had been blood stained, no wonder the girl had bade Ms. East to let her clean it. Likewise Leon’s uniform coat was hanging up, leaving the strapping young man in his shirt-sleeves and Daniel was struck then but the realization that the policeman was thickly built but lithely toned and in peak masculine form. He let out a sigh he wasn’t sure was longing or wistfulness. At his side Warren threw him a glance and Daniel felt himself freeze up just a moment.

“I wondered what your relationship with the policeman was.” Warren sounded bemused.

“No!” Daniel nearly yelped it out, and flushed bright red. He remembered then where he had recalled the taste of Warren’s brandy. The other boarding house, it’s lantern lit nightly rituals, it’s carefully kept secrets. Was it any wonder that Warren knew this intimacy about his inclinations too? “No,” he spoke quieter, “It isn’t like that. We’ve only met thrice now, I didn’t even know his name till the second meeting and that was only yesterday.” 

“Seward hasn’t recognized me yet, I attended one of his house calls at the boarding house but only once, when poor Bradley was nearly taken by the influenza.” Warren explained, “He is a good doctor, even if the body is not his specialty. How far along is your consumption?” Warren had stopped them by the front hedge, not quite in the front yard and at an angle to watch Leon and Sarah working at the laundry. 

“A bout of fatigue about once a month before I returned to London, although I did not make a connection then, there were other things I was worried about at the time.” The Shadow's threat and the Baron’s protection. “It was not until I returned from Prussia that the first bout of bloody coughing came, probably the air here exasperated the disease. Prussia and the surrounding countryside is far less industrial." Daniel leaned himself forward against the fence that bordered the property on the front, keeping the hedges safe from the traffic of the lane. 

"You won't move to the countryside?"

Daniel thought about Hazel in her exile, high up in the bedrooms of the Sanitorium, waiting devotedly for each letter from her adventurous older brother. They were both dead now, Daniel and Hazel, and he was haunted by their ghosts in varying ways, "No, professor, I will not." 

"You only call me professor when you're trying to distance yourself, you know." Warren leaned against the fence beside him, but unlike at the lectern they did not touch here, a good bit of space between them remained, but Warren still acted as a windbreak, somewhat shielding him from the wind coming off the little lake. "You've done that ever since I told you to call me Warren."

Daniel did not remember being told this, but it made sense, of course he would have never been presumptuous enough to refer to his mentor by a first name basis, even after he had graduated. He looked down at his hands, one scraped up and pale, the knuckles cracked, the other bandaged neatly still, fair-skinned, freckles around the thumb and forefinger, a very old scar along his right middle finger's second knuckle. Not quite so elegant as Warren's beside him, crossed at the wrist, his forearms braced against the wooden fence. Presumptuous enough to call that regal and pristine man by name, he was now, he had been from the beginning. 

He was so tired, so tired of hiding and lying, of pretending to be a dead man. He could tell Warren all of it right now, wash his hands of this whole mess, the man would likely refuse to let him take part in whatever unwholesome ritual they would have to enact to banish that thing back to whatever nether it came from. 

"Is it really so bad that I'm worried about you, Daniel?" 

"No." He replied softly, his voice almost carried off and away by the autumn breeze, the creaking branches of trees high above, the sound of Sarah's sudden laughter in the yard behind the house and before them, "No. Just I wish you wouldn't, you are bound to have your heart broken when I let you down." He glanced at Warren, at the man's handsome face, his aquiline nose as regal as his hands, he could not imagine the man in his youth, in his age he had become a beauty - a diamond formed by the pressure of an unfair life. If Daniel was half as imposing and demanding beautiful in his old age, he would be lucky. "I'm not going to retire to a quiet countryside house and let the tuberculosis take me like it did Ha-" his voice broke, he couldn't even say her name, couldn't speak it out loud, it hurt too much to hear Sarah's laughter and not be able to recall Her laughter too.

He took a deep breath and let the chill snap of the air settle deep in the ache of his chest, burn like a brand through his lungs.

"Why do you think you will let me down?" Warren sounded so sad, and Daniel felt like he'd done it already. "I am proud of you Daniel, of all that you have overcome and survived." 

It was too much, he couldn't stand it, lent over the fence he buried his face in his hands and laughed, muffled and desperate, and so very sad. "Don't-" Daniel whimpered, a little high pitched, but Warren was reaching out to comfort him, and weakly Daniel went into the circle of the man's arms once more, helplessly, "Please." But he didn't know for what he was pleading or why.

"Like a son I have long loved you, when Herbert snapped you up I was livid and he lorded it over me for long years, with no love lost do I see him dead and yet now I find myself helping his daughter when he nearly cost me my son. Why would you ever think you could let me down Daniel? You are already so much more than I ever hoped you would be." Warren cradled him, one hand on his neck, one on his lower back. It was the welcome he did not receive from his first stop back in London, it was the love of a father, but he knew that he was going to break Warren, he was not the heir the man thought he would be, but a traitor and a deserter. 

“I am so proud of you.” Warren reiterated holding him steady and Daniel forced himself to breathe, to center himself, and he only then realized he had been clutching to Warren like a child. Slowly he loosened his hold on the man’s clothing, trembling he pulled back enough to look at Warren watery eyes and trembling lips. “Oh Daniel, you could never disappoint me.”

Nodding numbly Daniel looked into Warren’s dark eyes, “I can’t tell you what happened, I can’t but I’m not the man you think I am anymore Warren.”

“No, you are far stronger.” Warren sighed and brushed Daniel’s loose hair back from his face, “I understand your self doubts and guilt.” Stepping back he held Daniel at arm's length. "I need you to know that I will be there for you, that you are not alone in this. That I have been through something like this before and you already have far more in allies than we did back in Dunwich, I am also going to ask you to chose which ones go on from here." Warren's gaze slipped to their side, where Leon was helping Sarah beat out a carpet, clearly she'd put him to work entirely. "Which of these men would you take into the fray?"

Daniel had never been in a position of actual power before. The flight from that thing in the East residence had not really lent itself to leadership and they had each at various points taken some form of incentive, even Penelope had taken care of him in her own way and took the lead by doing so. But with Warren obviously bowing out, and Daniel should have realized it when he confirmed that Daniel would memorize the warding instead of him, that left Daniel as the member of the party with the most pieces of the puzzle and understanding of the events transpiring. He also caught that Warren didn't include Penelope in people partaking, and Daniel bit down his own guilt because he knew he did.

"Penelope stays." Before Warren's surprise could switch to protest Daniel continued, "She's the most tainted by this thing, I may have angered it but Penelope was always the prey it was toying with. She is brittle clearly and Doctor Seward and I both fear for her mental state but if we have any hope of luring it, she'll need to be used for bait."

"I so wish you had not said that," Warren murmured softly, mournfully he nodded, "But you are right, I cannot think how we would tempt it otherwise. I doubt dressing someone up in her clothing would trick it." 

Daniel nodded with a soft derisive laugh, "Added I'm the only one who would fit in her clothing."

Warren smirked at him and arched an eyebrow, "There are clubs for that kind of thing I've heard. But I never fancied you'd been to one."

Daniel made a mock sound of scandal, "I've never, although I did get moderately attached to the pink parasol." 

Having diffused the situation they leaned up against the fence again side by side and Warren nodded to him in understanding, "Alright then, you've your driver, the policeman, and the doctor. Myself and Penelope already, of course."

Daniel considered this, his gaze wandering from the laundry to the trees and past that the lake's ripples. He sniffed and cleaned his face against the cuff of his sleeve and considered his options aloud. 

"The doctor knows the most about my circumstances and has medical training which we would be most handy should something unwanted occur." He had also been through some terrible ordeal himself, the details of which Daniel did not know entirely, just as the doctor did not understand the whole story of Brennenburg, but it was experience in some sort of implied preternatural or otherworldly event, and that was good enough for Daniel. "If he is amiable to continue I would that he go the rest of the way with us, he is most helpful." And Daniel was a little fond of him, not in a romantic fashion but the man was passionate and strong - and had his laudanum supply.

"The driver I've managed to keep mostly out of my business so far, I would that he stays as far from it continuing, I have no way of knowing how clearly he would understand everything. I do not know what he thinks I've been up to, he doesn't ask questions and I suppose that's why I've become fond of him too." Daniel snorted a bit in bemusement, "I think he'd help me bury a body, as long as it was a human man. I'm not sure I can trust him to help me bury a beast."

Warren nodded, "Which leaves the policeman."

Daniel's wandering attention turned back to Leon, who was now done with the carpet and had leaned himself up against Lenny's carriage to sunnily discuss something with the poor man who looked ill at ease and still likely harbored a grudge for yesterday morning. So far Leon had displayed remarkable strength of character, a disposition that easily took to any situation, quick thinking and a fondness for Daniel for whatever reason. But, "I'm not sure we should put him into any further danger. I have no doubt if left up to him to decide he would readily and with duty place himself into our service but he is innocent in all of this, and taking advantage of his personality to suit our own ends is..." Daniel paused, and felt a wry snap of humor, "Morally reprehensible." 

"And yet working without him would leave Doctor Seward as our most capable physically, I do love you Daniel, but you are not the most physically intimidating."

Daniel snorted and threw him a quelling look, made less by how watery and red-noses his appearance was, "Thank you Warren, you could have just called me a Molly."

Warren laughed sharply and then looked surprised at himself, and nudging Daniel with his arm he chuckled, this time softer, "I thought the dress comment was enough teasing for one day." He turned back away from Daniel to look at the policeman up against the carriage, and Daniel watched the slow track of his gaze on Leon's entire form, in an almost salacious manner, the first sign of real physical need that Daniel could remember of the man at all, but then Warren narrowed his eyes and nodded and no longer did his gaze even hint at even a whisper of impropriety, "He'll stay here with Sarah then, they seem to get along."

Daniel tilted his head and considered this, "Warren, you wouldn't need her to have a chaperone?" 

With an almost cruel slant to his smile, Warren shook his head, "If that boy tried anything, she would eat him alive. I can tell you as I trust you most, but Sarah has already survived a situation like ours. She came to live with me as we had no remaining family and the orphanage sent her along, but she was there when her parents were lost to us. Armitage was such a clever man, our," Warren's smile had faded and he closed his eyes as he parsed through some mixture of painful memories, "Our brilliant mage. Spearheaded every investigation, every uncovering of the unknown and forbidden," he sighed softly, ruefully, "When he asked me for my sister's hand in marriage how could I have denied them their happiness? But I couldn't stand to see it," He looked to Daniel with such soft guilt, "We'd lost [RIBBIT] and it broke my heart once, I could not bare to lose Armitage too, even if it was not to death."

Softly Daniel understood Warren's presence in his life before Algeria, the one he clearly related to the most, but not the one he was most drawn to, Daniel did not doubt that Warren loved him, but not the man he really was, and he also felt such a closeness to him now, even knowing he would inevitably leave Warren behind he could say he felt most fond of the man, "You were in love with him." Daniel knew it to be true, he had the same painful softness in his voice when he spoke of the Baron to Seward, it lacked Daniel's own bitter loss and betrayal but it was the same taste of pain. 

Warren did not answer him, only gave him a fond glance and a brittle smile, "So I took myself to London, and took the books with me, Armitage did not need them by that point, once you learn the page it stays with you forever, he could have drawn them in his sleep, perhaps he did." Another soft rueful sigh, "I visited during the summer a few times, had them all come out and stay with me a few months every year or so, by then Laura was helping him with his work, no longer just a librarian. Sarah was born and yet her parents did not settle down as I would have hoped."

Daniel could guess at what happened, the longer you work with the unholy, the less time you have left in the realm of man, either you go mad or you die. He placed his hand on Warren's arm in gentle support, for he knew what would come.

"Sarah inherited some of her father's aptitude for," Warren shifted his other hand around, "Magic. Enough that when whatever it was to kill her parents came after her she was able to contain it. Some of Armitage's compatriots came to her rescue and took care of it, but after being handed around from home to home she was finally sent to an orphanage who managed to find a contact for me." Warren shrugged, "So no, I'm not particularly worried about leaving Sarah home alone, or letting her do anything she'd rather on her own. The sewing circle she so desperately longs to fit in with is filled with silly impressionable young women who will never in their entire life amount to an ounce of what my niece is worth." 

"I am sorry for your loss."

Warren gave him another rueful smile, "Oh Daniel, I lost him long before he died." Gathering himself, he tugged gently at Daniel's sleeve, "Come along, we should inform the others of our plans, and also take some lunch. I'm starving." 

They walked together in companionable silence to the front door of the house, and no sooner had they gotten their coats off and hung up did the Doctor come out of the parlor to greet them, "I was afraid you'd both met your end." There was only a little humor in the man's tone, Seward had obviously been worried about them. No wonder, he was most informed on their particular partnership being a man with a cane and a consumptive wreckage of nerves.

"No, we made good headway." Warren informed him before excusing himself to go find his niece, leaving Daniel and Seward to retire back to the parlor. 

Collapsing back onto a sofa Daniel let his head rest back against the cushions and sprawled his legs out before himself without care. He was hungry now that food had been mentioned, but also bone-deep exhausted, the frizzle of his nerves most painful. He longed for laudanum, and the deep embrace of dreams. 

The hand that lay on his forehead was cold and he started a little, but opening his eyes showed only that the doctor was checking his temperature, "Oh do stop fretting over me." He chided, closing his eyes again. 

"Last night you were bleeding and prone in bed, forgive me for worrying about you as your physician should."

Daniel's lips twitched, "We both know you feel more for me than the Hippocratic." Daniel wondered what it was exactly that had drawn the doctor to him, what reminded Seward of that man he'd failed to protect. What part of his physique and personality reminded the man so heavily of what he had lost? Opening his eyes he looked to see how his teasing comment had affected the doctor, whose hand had lifted from his skin.

Seward stood, partially lost in thought his gaze fixed on Daniel's throat but he knew Seward wasn't really looking at him, was looking through him, lost and alone. He pushed himself to sit forward and reached out to take the Doctor's hand in his own, drawing him back, back from wherever it was he'd gone.

"Tell me about the man you are so often reminded of with me. You must have loved him deeply."

Seward looked stricken and then he laughed, closing his eyes, "I did not even realize I loved him at all, I-" he sat beside Daniel and his gaze fell to the wood-grain of the floor, "Not even after it all, did I realize. You see I was so very taken by poor Lucy that her death became all that drove me, even after she had rejected Quincy and I in favor of our friend. We all remained so close, and I suppose her death brought us even closer."

"Which of them was your heart’s desire then?"

Here Seward's lips twisted in their own wry and bemused way, "Neither, although Quincy shared my interest in him I believe, but Quincy was a man of many lusts, an American, and they're all like that."

Daniel arched his eyebrow, "Warren is American, you know."

The doctor looked correctly contrite, "I, I did not, he is so-" Seward drew off to gesture out toward the house, "Proper." 

Nodding in agreement, Daniel bade him continue his story.

"Well, it wasn't them, dear friends that they were, but Lucy's friend Mina, her fiancé and then husband, Jonathan Harker. He was in a state by the time I'd met him, having survived some... something in Transylvania I must confess I still do not know the entirety of. He came back all the way alone and changed, a veteran of whatever it was that lived in those mountains. Along with my mentor, Jonathan was the wisest of the party that set out to deal with Lucy's killer, just by proxy of what he had survived, but it left its mark upon him and he was not as Mina had described him to be. Broken and in a state, but with a bitter light in his eyes and a remarkable force of will." The admiration that Seward spoke with was palpable and one could not deny that the man held his friend in high regard.

"If I had realized sooner that my feelings ran past sheer admiration perhaps I could have changed the outcome, but Quincy's attempts were also in vain. I believe that in all likelihood, much like you have been, Jonathan was tainted by the man who had wronged him. None of us knew it, save maybe Mina." He took a breath, "When the count began to toy with us we were wrong to think he'd taken Mina for himself." Turning his attention to Daniel, the doctor squeezed his hand and then gathered his damaged one and took his focus to the gauze, beginning to unravel it, "It was never Mina. He was coming for Jonathan, who had escaped his careful prison of a castle, the Count had meant to return to him all along, and he was using Mina as his bait." Carefully each layer came undone, the man's ministrations were the most gentle, a longing and care in his movements that Daniel would have hungered for before he too had been 'tainted' as Seward put it. "He'd been gathering servants for his pretty bride. By god was Jonathan a beautiful man."

Bride, not husband, Daniel felt an itch under his skin, wanted to claw at his own stitches suddenly as Seward revealed them, but he kept himself still, kept himself contained, the Baron and his damned bride. 

"Beautiful and passionate under the simple vision of an estate clerk, the Count had likely seen what we all missed for so long, that Jonathan was a rarity, a man who cracked and fractured but never broke completely and each pain brought a more beautiful facet of him to light. He was breathtaking with a blade by the end of it, maybe that's why we never realized till it was too late. I suspect Mina knew, that they'd made arrangements, she did not cry when Jonathan vanished, she's never cried, never wore the mourning black of a widow." 

"After Jonathan was-" a painful break in his voice, "After he was gone, I realized in time my attraction to him and my feelings for him borne of our shared ordeal. He was so cunning in the end, and so resigned, it is that about you that I find most engaging. Also why I cannot believe any man would abandon you so, not after you had come into your beauty. Fragile and tempered." Seward leaned over to his gladstone on the low table beside them, leaving Daniel's hand palm up in his lap and from it he procured a bottle of solution and some swabs, "I take it you and Warren have a plan to deal with the creature? I found no reference of it in his books, but I have a feeling that your dear professor was just distracting me to settle my nerves. I confess I may have dozed off when the words all began to blur together."

Daniel smiled slightly, and prepared himself for the sting as the solution was wiped over his marred flesh, the shock of it was visceral indeed and he almost moaned, tamping it down, he took a steadying breath, certainly he had been changed, to associate pain and delicacy with arousal, although Seward was only apologetic which dimmed the sensation some. He wished he had Warren's brandy, but it was over in the study so he had nothing to dull his senses.

"Yes, I fear I must ask you to assist us, doctor." Daniel looked up to gauge his reaction, and saw that Seward had risen his gaze to frown at him.

"I would have forced my way into it if you had not asked, I would not feel right if you were to go this alone, especially not in your condition." 

Daniel smiled wry and curled the fingers of his wounded hand so that he stroked the palm of Seward's own, "Thank you Doctor. Now you must help me to convince Leon to stay behind." 

"It should not be too hard, we will just tell him he must guard Ms. East."

Ah and here would come the fray, "Ah, but we must take Penelope with us, she is the best means we have of luring the creature."

Seward froze and looked at him stricken, his hand jerking a little. "You must be jesting."

Sighing Daniel looked at him imploringly, willing him to understand, "You know that I am not. It was hunting her, and it will continue to hunt her, we are merely in it's way. I have angered it but that means so little in the long run if it gets what it's really after." He sighed, stroking Seward's hand again only to have the Doctor pull away from him entirely, "Seward, Jack? Look Jack we've no recourse, even Warren agreed, despite his reservations."

"I cannot willingly see the sense in putting an already damaged woman in further jeopardy, Daniel." He swallowed, eyes shifting down and away from Daniel, to look at the ground, "I see that you use my first name to, I will confess, very skillfully manipulate my emotions, but I will not bend in this, how could you stand to put her in this dangerous situation?"

"Because I have no other choice, look," he sighed, gathering himself, "I understand, I do, but one's naivety only takes them so far and as someone who ran from the responsibilities of their actions for so long, it's better she deals with it now, then if we were to fail her and she had to take it on her own, possibly causing more deaths in the process."

Seward began to wrap his hand with more gauze, his face pinched, causing his mustache to turn further downward and droop in a sorrowful manner, "It is a bad business. She isn't... isn't there anything we might do instead?"

"I doubt me dressing up in her blood stained gown to fool the creature would work as much as a joke was made of it earlier." Daniel stretched his hand under the gauze and Seward's firm grasp, reveling in the way the stitches pulled and the fabric tugged against his aching flesh. He bit down his real answer, that there wasn't anything more to do about it, that Penelope was their best hope at luring the thing to be banished, that he was not even sure if he could banish it or contain it, that his experience in this sort of thing hadn't ended well. He wished he could have spent a week with that book while simultaneously he hoped to never see it again. Finally, he did not state what he wanted to the most, that Penelope's life, his life, any of them, could not be worth more than the lives of the people this thing might take if all they did was run. 

"Please Doctor Seward," Daniel bent down until the doctor would look at him, "Believe me when I say, I would not endanger her if I could help it." An innocent, but what choice did Daniel have?

Seward fastened the gauze closed and then he soothed his hand over the bared palm before him, took his fingers to Daniel's thin wrist and pressed against the vein prominent there, measuring his pulse, even as he studied Daniel's eyes. He wondered what the doctor was seeing in him now, if he was seeing more of his friend Jonathan, or the wreckage that was truly before him. Letting Daniel's wrist drop, Seward sighed and moved to stand, "It's wrong, but I suppose refusing my assistance now would only endanger her further, and I have no hope of secreting her away from the thing you all described. I am no-" Seward motioned his hand toward Daniel, "Occult practitioner or archaeologist." 

"I wish you would all stop saying I can do magic, and Warren is likely going to start calling me 'mage' it isn't-" Daniel drew off, his incensed vexation fizzling out at the reminder that he had absolutely no way to explain exactly what it was he was doing, "Nevermind, shall we go check on Warren? I feel as if I don't eat something soon I'm likely to faint." Even though this was a joke, Seward took Daniel’s arm under his own to lead him like an invalid and having come upon the dining room and finding it empty they further tracked to the kitchen. Sarah was elbow to elbow with her uncle at the counter, the both of them working in tandem to chop up cured meats and thick slices of bread. 

Together they also glanced over to the opening door and Daniel was struck by the similarity in their black gaze, the handsome set of Warren’s eyes was most pleasing on Sarah’s soft face. “Sorry,” Daniel murmured, “Well, is there anything we might help with?”

Sarah took over and directed Seward to slicing up cheese, but Daniel with his wounded hand was deemed useless by her quick glance and was thus relegated to sit at the table in the corner. 

“What mastery of the kitchen you have young miss.” Seward said companionably and to this Sarah made a noise that Daniel interpreted as dismissal. “You will certainly make some man lucky one day, with how easily you’ve accommodated our party.” 

“Oh I intend her to be an old maid and live with me into obscurity and my eventual death.” Warren stated quite chipper for him, and obviously only partially teasing, his niece rolled her eyes. 

“I’ll elope.” She said very matter of factly and Warren elbowed her gently in the ribs, to which she laughed high and clear. “Alright I won’t.” 

“But certainly you don’t mean her to stay in the kitchen forever?” Seward asked and Daniel watch with subdued amusement as Warren’s shoulders stiffened.

“Oh no, I intend for her to take a career.” The pride and challenge in Warren’s voice was a delicious counterpoint to the soft shock on Seward’s. “She is far too gifted and intelligent to be wed away, already she knows multiple languages and is skilled in a number of esoteric arts.”

“Uncle Warren,” Sarah groaned, drawing it out and elbowed her uncle in a way that was identical to his own mannerisms, “Stop it. That’s why the girls don’t like me.”

Warren made a sound of dismissal and disgust, “Simple minded trollops.”

“Sir! Your language!” Seward hissed, and Warren looked him dead in the eye and grinned, Daniel bit down his own grin.

“Harlots.” Warren snapped the consonants and drew the t out most seductively.

“Whores!” Sarah chirped with the upmost clarity and innocent joy, as if she could not possibly understand what the word meant but by the sharp intelligence in her challenging and playful gaze he knew she well did.

Seward looked absolutely embarrassed and scandalized. “Please!” He cried, “That is not proper language for a young lady!”

Daniel who knew more about Sarah than Seward did, who had learned just an hour ago what she had survived, did not think it was fair to say she was not allowed to say what she wanted to but he also could see that Warren was in a mood and that as the reason Seward was there to begin with it was up to him to keep the peace, “Pray my friends that you calm yourselves, else I’ll never get fed and I am famished.”

Seward looked contrite and Warren frowned in worry and spoke, “You barely ate at breakfast, it is no wonder. Here Sarah, go set the table and I’ll finish up the sandwiches. Seward if you would be so kind as to awaken Penelope and bring her down to lunch with us, Leon is set guarding her door, I’m sure he must be hungry again by now too.”

Seward nodded and left obediently and Sarah took down the cups and pitcher, gathering cutlery as well before making her way out of the kitchen in haste.

After a moment of silent working Warren glanced at Daniel and then leaned his hip on the counter, facing him entirely, “He is fussed, what did you do to him?”

Daniel’s lips twitched, “I told him we’d need Penelope.” 

Warren grimaced, looking away before turning his attention back to Daniel, “Yes it’s no wonder the doctor was projecting onto Sarah his worries. He is most old-fashioned for a man of his age.”

“Warren, I think you are the progressive one here.”

With a sigh the professor began to finish up the sandwiches and place them on a tray. “I know Sarah is not the only intelligent woman in existence but I cannot help but want the best for her. I lost her mother, Daniel, long before I even realized how dear she was to me, and there is so much of my sister in her daughter. So much of Jane and Armitage there, I want her to excel, to do better than all of us.”

Daniel thought about Hazel, her letters and dreams, her longing for adventure and the future she would have likely been forced to lead had she survived. The slow decay of dreams dashed out, of reality creeping in and the death of her wide-eyed optimism and hope. “It does not sound as if she entirely shares your dreams for her, but perhaps she just longs to fit in.”

“It is a journey to find individuality, we all must come out of our cocoon eventually. Sarah has far more drive than she lets on and would be unfulfilled as a mere housewife and lead of the sewing circle. She does not even like to sew, Daniel.”

Smiling softly at this revelation Daniel tilted his head and considered Warren’s words, “Even so, do stop teasing Seward, he’s already upset.”

Warren gestured to the tray, “Take this up for me and come along, I will behave myself concerning your doctor Jack whom you are so fond of.”

“Not like that, Warren, not fond like that.” Daniel obeyed and took up the tray carefully, taking it into the dining room. Sarah was just finishing up at the table and quickly took the tray from him. “Please, Sarah I’m not an invalid.” He groused.

“If you don’t rest the cuts you’ll take longer to heal.” Sarah snapped back just as quick, “Then you’ll need to open new ones instead of using the old, you’ll damage the feeling in it.” 

Daniel was sharply reminded that Sarah’s father had been versed in the same kind of warding as him, he nodded, stricken by a pain he could not readily decipher, something that felt a mix of familial and something else. She pulled the chair out for him and bade him to sit and he did, wondering who had told Sarah, or if she’d even needed to be told what he’d done, maybe she could just read it off him. How many times had she’d seen her own father in such a state, and had she done the same sort of warding to save her own life?

Daniel felt another wave of relief that Warren would not be the one to perform the warding, to send another family member home to this poor girl with bloody hands, he couldn’t stomach it. So lost in his thoughts was he that the sound of breaking glass and the scream that tore through the house nearly gave him a heart attack. Sarah took a pairing knife from the folds of her apron and followed quick on the heels of her uncle.

Turning his gaze to the table and the sandwiches he would be forbidden from a while longer, Daniel gathered his remaining strength and followed after them, wanting nothing more than to stuff himself and crawl under something to sleep, but of course in so biblical a manner, there would be no rest for the wicked.


	14. Visceral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel makes a deal with an old "friend" and shit gets real.

Upstairs contained a number of rooms and the one at the very end of the hall was the focus of the commotion. Leon was standing elbow to elbow with Sarah, both of them on high alert, Warren was halfway down the hallway. The door lay open but neither Sarah or Leon were entering the room, Daniel could not see their faces, turned as they were away from him. He arrived shortly after Warren and peered around Sarah’s head into the room. 

Penelope was pressed against the wall near the door, away from the windows and clearly too terrified to move anywhere else. Seward was down on one knee, near enough to the broken glass that had shattered inward with the breaking of a window but still clear of it. The doctor’s attention was upon an object that had skidded along the carpet, the gory remains of a bird, it’s neck having snapped when it impacted with the glass. 

“Please do calm yourselves, it is just a poor bird with directional challenges.”

Daniel hedged around Sarah and took himself to the room, carefully sidestepping broken glass he tiptoed over to the window, ignoring Seward calling him to come away from it. Outside the day was grayer than it had been when they’d come in, and oppressively silent. No sound of bird or breeze and Daniel closed his eyes, focusing further, trying to hear something although he wasn’t sure what. There was something strange in the silence, something that was cresting, drawing, forming. There was a sudden crack of sound behind him, Seward cursed and fell back, turning around Daniel saw that the sound had been the bird’s croaking cry, and it flapped broken wings, and floundered uselessly on the ground, it’s unseeing black eyes staring skyward, a thick black-red ooze spat out along with another unearthly cry. It coalesced into a bubble of flesh and form on the floor where the spit had landed and Daniel quickly moved forward, stomping his booted heel upon it, unthinking he gathered the bird up against his chest, still floundering as it was. 

He ran, shoving past Leon and Sarah, who parted in shock and then he was taking the stairs three at a time, the bird helplessly thrashing in his embrace. He went through the hall, through the living room, burst through the kitchen and ran into the backyard, past hanging laundry and onward toward the treeline far away, the bird’s sick insides coming out against his hands, his sleeves. He crashed into bramble and bush, stomped through it as it tore at his clothes and then tripping he collapsed to his knees in the thick underbrush. Finally he looked down at the bird in his arms, the Shadow living in it’s beady eyes. 

“You found me.” He was crazed with the desire to run, to throw whatever he could between himself and this thing, but he merely held onto it tighter. It’s crying had stopped replaced now by an almost content burbling sound. The flood had stopped and Daniel was disgusted yet also fascinated by the viscous slick flesh that had formed in vein-like ways along the bird’s feathers and his own sleeves. “They’re all broken you know, they’re all broken and I don’t belong here anymore, so I suppose you’ll be doing me a favor by ending it.” 

The bird burbled more, and the flesh forming pulsated, the underbrush was dark, rising shadow, like tide. Closing his eyes Daniel bit down his own burbling mania. “Leave them alone, leave them alone they’ve not done anything, they’ve suffered enough.”

The orphan Sarah and her uncle Warren who had lost everyone he’d ever loved, innocent Leon who wasn’t even meant to be here, and Jack Seward whose only wrong was falling too quick for the wrong men. 

“Please.” Daniel begged, “Just me, just take me.” As he should have so long ago, as before-Daniel should have, instead of damning dozens in his stead, instead of learning how to inflict pain and found rapture in it, instead of dragging that destruction behind him. 

The bird seized, it’s wings flapping again before it finally gave up the ghost and lay still. Looking down Daniel saw the emptiness in it’s gaze, a mirror that reflected the creature looming behind him. The Shadow was formless and yet formed, a Biblical angel - chariot of fire and many winged serpent one second and seven dead bodies stitched together the next, Daniel closed his eyes and choked down another hysterical laugh. He rose the bird’s body up, held it in his hands and rose it to look eye to eye with the dead creature and by proxy the beast behind him. 

The bird’s beak lulled open and then it spoke, or the Shadow following spoke, but the beak moved with the words, “Gentle Murderer, His Little Dancer, Mine.” 

“Why did you let me go just to take me now? When I’ve finally begun to collect myself?” Daniel’s hysteria bled into hopelessness, desperation. 

“Hunting, hunted.” The crow’s beak snapped, “Claimed.” Daniel had no idea what any of that meant, “A parasite, it has no claim here.”

The warm glow of understanding was beginning to dawn, even as the corners of his vision were blurring, that Shadow behind him encroaching closer and closer, hungry stretching tendrils, an embrace that Daniel dreaded down to the marrow of his bones. 

“The shoggoth?” At his question the dead crow spat up more thick sick over his hands and Daniel almost tossed the thing away from him in disgust but swallowed down his own bile. 

“Parasite.” A death rattle, Daniel felt something slick and thick drag against his back and he bit down a scream. “Claimed, it has no right.”

Daniel closed his eyes tight and finally let out a manic high-pitched laugh, his hands spasming around the bird, “You’re jealous?”

“NO RIGHT!” The bird, the Shadow shouted. 

“Then kill it!” Daniel growled, his rage and frustration quelling, he stood sharply, still holding the bird. His anger was a sharp blade that twisted in his gut, overcoming the repulsion and madness, he looked the bird right in it’s beady dead eyes, looking at the reflection of forsaken divinity behind him, “Or kill me!”

The bird screamed at him and before-Daniel would have long fled but this Daniel stood his ground, snarling at it, his hands tightening their hold, keeping it still, even though the corpse made no move to struggle. He felt another slap of something slick and sick against his backside, trailing down his thighs and calves. 

“Trap it.” The Shadow hissed, “Trap it, and I will kill it, and you will give me favor.”

Daniel nodded, shaking like a leaf but still standing. “We were going to banish it anyway.”

“It will always be Hunting, it will always be There.” The Shadow stated, “The parasites, the world-builders, once they find their way they can always worm through.”

So it would have all been for naught, given the nature of the beast, and while the Shadow had no stake in telling him the truth he had long known that it had been all along, communicating through his nightmares and hallucinations, driving mad a mind that had no means of understanding it. He had a theory about this too, “Why can I hear you when I couldn’t understand you before?”

“Your eyes are open.” The crow screamed alongside the words, a painful cry, and then it was rotting right there in his hands, disintegrating quickly as flesh decayed. Daniel finally flung the thing away from him, before falling to his knees and vomiting. He was still there in the underbrush, his sick in front of him but not a trace of decay or pulsing flesh upon his person, when they found him. 

Beating a way through the brush with Warren’s cane came Leon and Seward then carefully parted him from thorns and bramble. Sarah took his arm when he was free of the wilds and gently led him back to the house, as Seward peppered him with questions he did not have the strength to answer. 

Sarah and Warren both laid him out on the sofa in Warren’s study and he closed his eyes against the worried faces, curling up on his side he kept his hands far from him, hanging over the side of the cushions. As soon as he’d helped laid him down Leon was sent up to check on Penelope who was still hiding in the bedroom.

“What happened?” Seward asked again, brushing his hair back, and then the man picked a leaf from the tangle of it tenderly.

“Clearly that thing was possessed by something.” Sarah told the doctor matter of factly. “Daniel must of banished it.” 

He had not the strength to explain that he had not banished it but instead perhaps made a deal with his own personal devil. 

Seward did not look convinced all the same, “He needs to eat, and rest.” At this, a nearly direct order, Sarah swept out and Warren moved to tend to the fireplace, prodding the flames higher, “Daniel?” The doctor whispered, real fear in his tone and Daniel did not wish for a repeat of earlier when the man’s emotions had driven him to kiss Daniel.

“I am alright Doctor, just a little shaken up.” He steadied his breathing and closed his eyes to center himself, “You are right, I need to eat and rest.” He shuddered at the cleanliness of his hands before him, “And to wash up first.” 

Warren promised to fetch a basin of warm water and slipped out, leaving Seward to crouch down beside him. Daniel did not much like the searching way that Seward looked at him, nor the way that the man reached out and held open Daniel’s eyes, “What?” He snapped, trying to jerk away.

“Your eyes are dilated, how bright are the lights?”

A stupid question, “Overstimulating to say the least.” The fire had been stoked to a hearty heat, something he was glad of.

“The lamp isn’t lit Daniel.”

He jerked to sit up, heart in his throat, and flung his head about, the window shades were drawn, the corners of the room should be coated with black, and yet the firelight was enough to illuminate everything, nearly perfect. “What?” Daniel’s voice trembled with emotion, and he felt Seward draw his attention back, holding his face in his hands, “What?”

“Your eyes are massively dilated, I think you may be in shock.” 

Daniel closed his eyes tightly, “Wonderful, might we worry about this later?” He gave a soft huff of frustration and looked back at Seward before turning his head sharply away from him, “I am fine.”

Seward jerked slightly and let go of Daniel as if startled by something. When Daniel looked back in confusion the Doctor reached out and tore at his collar, Daniel made a subdued sound of outrage and kicked out at the man, but just as he had determined before, he was no match for Seward’s strength. The doctor overpowered him, pinning him down and half-straddling him, his free hand tearing apart the buttons at Daniel’s collar, and then forcing his sleeves down, “That unholy familiar, has it already begun to take you?” Seward raged, and his angry passion brought Daniel’s breath short, his cock thickening at the feeling of being held down, at the single-minded focus of the man above him.

He hated himself, loathed himself for this, for wanting it even though he didn’t - for his body’s betrayal and he shuddered in repulsion and desire.

Seward abruptly let him go and stood. Searching his form with his eyes, raking over Daniel but not lingering anywhere in particular, just as soon as the mania hit the man did it leave and he paced backward, turning swiftly from Daniel to stomp out of the room. Daniel sat on the sofa, shivering and breathless, dazed still. By the time he had brought his breathing under control he could hear Seward and Warren arguing in the hallway, and partway looking for the button Seward had torn off his collar did Daniel greet them. Seward was carrying one of the hallway mirrors and Warren was limping after him quickly, protesting. 

Seward put the ornate looking glass in front of Daniel and then he shifted it back and forth, slanting from side to side. Daniel started at his own ragged appearance and disheveled clothing, his braided hair a tangled messy halo around his face reflecting the same copper light of the fire as his eyes. As his- oh, oh dear yes, and he slowly with trepidation tilted his head back and forth, watching the play of light. That was not at all the way it used to be, but he did not entirely understand what was happening, could shock cause that sort of reflection?

“Men lack light shine in low light, our eyes are not built like nocturnal animals, and if there is a shine present it is white. Any hunter of nocturnal beasts could tell you as such. Orange reflections? Impossible.”

Warren had stopped protesting and slowly came over, watching Daniel’s eyes as he tilted his head back and forth. “What the devil? Are you quite sure?”

Seward threw him a sharp look, “As a doctor and as a hunter, I do assure you Warren, I am not wrong.” Seward lent the mirror against the sofa, and he kneeled down before Daniel, took his hands in his own, “Tell us what happened in the underbrush.” It was a command and not a question.

“I spoke to an, to an old friend.” Daniel whispered, at the look of fury flickering behind Seward’s gaze he shook his head, “Not the Baron. The Guardian,” his eyes flicked over to Warren who looked terribly worried, “It told me banishing the shoggoth would do no good, that it would always know where Penelope was now.” He looked down, at their joined hands, at the worry and care that Seward showed him, he didn’t understand the man’s reaction and the tearing open of his clothing but the doctor was clearly worried about him and had not been about to take advantage of him so Daniel felt a little guilty and contrite for his reaction earlier. 

“It could have lied.” Warren moved to sit beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder in quiet support.

“No, it wouldn’t.” Daniel whispered, “It told me if I trapped it, it would kill it. For a favor.” 

Warren reached out tenderly and took Daniel’s face in his careful hands, turned Daniel to look at him and as Seward had done he searched Daniel’s eyes, but with sharper care and understanding. 

“Then it vanished. Shortly after you found me, I may have gotten sick on the ground.” 

Warren’s fingertips gently stroked his cheek, along his jaw, he pressed his thumb against the corner of Daniel’s lip and tilted his head back with absolute care. Daniel wanted to cry, beloved he felt, and cared for, and it was all wrong the way these men worried after him. “What favor?” Warren asked him, mournful.

“I did not ask.”

Warren closed his eyes then, a half bitten down sound of pain and loss slipping past his clenched teeth. He took steadying breaths, he gathered himself and then he looked down at Daniel again, and drew him into his arms, not for Daniel’s comfort but his own, forcing Seward to let go of his hands, and Daniel brought them instead to clutch at Warren’s back, to let the fear of the flight into the woods, his worry and panic overtake him finally. He shook and then buried his face against Warren’s shoulder, and pressing his own face to Daniel’s hair he felt Warren crying silently. 

“What does that mean? What favor does it want? Is it related to that Baron?” Seward asked and Daniel ignored him, just stroked his hand over Warren’s bent back, held onto him and let the man mourn. Seward knew his questions largely had no answer and stood to pace much like a predator in a cage. Daniel listened to his pacing and hid against Warren, holding his mentor until his tears finally stilled and even when Warren sat back, Daniel only let him go partially, holding his mentor against the shoulder and ribs.

They looked at one another and Warren gently stroked his hair back from his face, tidying it with a fastidiousness that was undeniably parental. “You are a mess, Daniel. Let us get you cleaned up, I’ve drawn water into a basin for you...” he saw the state of Daniel’s shirt and his eyes shifted over to Seward sharply before falling back on Daniel who pleaded at him silently to stay quiet, and with a caress to Daniel’s fever-red cheek he spoke nothing on it, “Come along, I’ve drawn it in my room. You must forgive me for forbidding your admittance, Jack.” Warren still looked at the doctor sharply as if he suspected argument, but Seward nodded silently and moved to sit beside the fire, obviously chewing on his thoughts. 

Warren led him by hooked arms back upstairs, meeting Leon and Penelope half way up the stairwell, Penelope looked as much a wreck as Daniel had in the mirror, her face paler than healthy, her eyes unfocused until they fell on Daniel and then the blank expression on her face was replaced by a brittle smile, “Oh Daniel, thank you for taking that creature out. Most... most awful, how it cried so, I hate it.” She sniffed, and Daniel nodded numbly. 

“Hate it.” She murmured again, and Leon threw him a wry if worried glance back as they passed and did something with his free hand that was quite rude concerning poor Penelope’s mental state but truthfully Daniel could not argue it. 

Warren’s bedroom was the first door on the left side of the hallway and stepping inside Daniel was instantly at home with the dark wood paneling and brilliant stained glass lamps. Plush chairs and overfilled bookshelves and a four poster bed heaped high with pillows and quilts. Daniel longed to curl up under the blankets and sleep for a month, but that was not his bed and this was not his room. Warren led him to sit at a chair before a woman’s vanity, the man giving him a self-conscious smile, “The standard way of standing to do one’s toiletry does not suit me. I need to sit to shave.” 

The water in the basin on the table was steaming and up here away from the fire Daniel found himself cold again, dipping his hand into the water he let the heat sink into him and hunching forward he leaned over the steam. Behind him Warren reached forward and picked up a comb, before he lay his hand upon Daniel’s shoulder and drew his attention up to the mirror set into the vanity. The light was too brilliant here to reflect in the dark his new oddity and as such it was just his own overly bright green eyes to stare at him at first, before he rose his gaze to Warren behind him.

“Might I brush your hair for you?” Warren asked, looking at Daniel with the same worry. He wondered how much of the old Daniel the man was seeing in him now, how different he must appear now that Warren had seen him experience an entire day of horrors. 

“Please.” Daniel murmured, unsure if he had ever in his entire life had someone offer to brush his hair, at least none that he could remember. 

Warren took his attention then to unraveling Daniel’s ragged braid, laying the green ribbon from Hazel’s trunk on Daniel’s shoulder. “You have always been fond of green.”

“It was Hazel’s favorite colour.” Daniel spoke without thinking, and then as the words sunk in he knew them to be true, it was Hazel’s favorite colour and so it had been his, for he had adored his little sister more than anything. He took his attention to Seward’s gauze and remembered how the viscera had sunk into it, now gone he recoiled in disgust at the memory and began to undo the doctor’s careful work. 

“What happened to your collar and sleeves?” Warren asked him quietly. “They were fine before I left for the water and now you are missing buttons.”

“I am not sure what Seward thought he would find under my collar but he was most direct and passionate about seeing under my clothing.” 

Warren’s lips pursed behind him, narrowing his eyes at Daniel’s hair but he surmised that look had very little to do with his tangled locks. “I do not think I like the doctor’s care of you now that I am seeing more of it. What a scoundrel.”

“He hasn’t done anything too untoward and I doubt he’s ever treated one of his patients similarly, he... has confessed that I remind him of a man he was once in love with who passed, I have reason to believe he is still in love with him though.” 

“I shan’t be leaving you alone with him at all from now on.” Warren stated matter of factly and Daniel boggled at him in the mirror, mouth hanging open.

“I am quite fine Warren! I’m a grown man and absolutely capable of taking care of myself, do not try and tell me that you would trust your niece on her own over me!” 

Warren met his eyes in the mirror and looked very uncomfortable, Daniel made an outraged sound. “I’m a grown man!” 

“You make very terrible decisions, you followed Herbert nearly to your end, and then you just made some unholy deal with an entity even more powerful than the one we are already up against.” Warren’s attention turned back to his hair and he began to untangle it with great care of his tangles, as if he had much experience with brushing long hair despite his own short crop.

“Exactly what sort of bad decision are you implying I might make with the Doctor?”

Warren arched an eyebrow but did not look at him, “You have always had crushes on men who are no good for you and are easily swayed by power.”

Daniel pushed his hands into the basin like a toddler having a tantrum, “I never! I did not have a crush on-“ he stopped, his own brain frizzling out, “Alright I did have a crush on Herbert and it blinded me to his cruelties and I had a crush, or, or I mean, I was in love with the Baron of Brennenburg which was perhaps the worst idea to ever take me, but I feel nothing romantic toward the doctor, I do not share his feelings.”

“You are attracted to cruelties and it vexes me so, now that the veil of naivety has been ripped from your eyes you see it plainly, I have no doubt you could fight the man off if you wanted, but you wouldn’t, you wouldn’t hurt him.” Warren looked at his back with such mournful sadness, “You would never hurt him to protect yourself from his advances, and I fear that you would bend yourself to them.” 

Daniel spoke bitter and sharp, the heat of the water sinking into him and running his blood as hot as his temper, “Oh but Warren, the Doctor could never be cruel enough for my tastes. You needn’t worry about me, I do not think poor Seward could rape me the way I would want him to.”

His own words were like a slap, to both himself and to Warren, and they met one another’s gaze in the mirror, both of them displaying horror and regret in different yet equal measures. Warren’s gaze slowly dropped back to Daniel’s hair, and gently resuming the stroke of the comb they sat in silence, Daniel mortified and Warren’s own emotions now hidden.

In time the professor finished untangling his hair and then began to braid it once more, when he picked the ribbon back up Daniel watched him draw it through his fingers, slow and steady, testing the texture of it beneath his fingers, “That was very rude of you, but also honest. I did press and you, like an animal, bit back.”

“I’m so sorry.” Daniel whispered, dry and terrified, and honest too. 

Warren began to tie the ribbon at the base of his braid, “I fear you are wrong about the Doctor. Just as you yourself were surprised by your own reaction just now, men may behave in mad ways when pressed to the brink.” He lay his hands on Daniel’s shoulders, his own shoulders pressed back with the straight line of his spine, his jaw set. “You must forgive me for not trusting you or the doctor, I have seen too much darkness and the failures of men, I have too long watched as friends became strangers to me.”

Daniel flushed and looked down with a nod, Suitably shamed and brought low, in a way he had not been since the castle, at least not by anyone save himself. His rage had been dashed out and he deflated, back curving in on itself and his shoulders hunched forward. 

"I am not angry with you Daniel. I am just worried about you. There is a, a self destructive streak in you that had long concerned me and I see that it has only gotten much worse since you left with Herbert." Warren lay the braid over Daniel's shoulder and patted his cheek. "Come along Daniel, you must eat."

Remembering the sandwiches Daniel's mouth was dry and his stomach turned in an almost painful way. 

"But first a new shirt, get out of that torn thing, I'm sure you'll fit in one of mine." Warren took himself to a wardrobe as Daniel took off his waistcoat and then his shirt. 

"I really don't think Seward was being..." Daniel floundered a bit, "Intentionally untoward in his actions this time." He grimaced when he saw the way that he'd misspoke and how it resulted in Warren's shoulders setting further between the open doors of the wardrobe. "I mean," Daniel struggled with his words, "Not that he has behaved overly inappropriate with me." Warren actually threw him a sharp glance over his shoulder and Daniel groaned at his continued missteps, "I wouldn't call what he's done absolutely inappropriate, he's never forced himself upon me or held me down like he did in the study, and I do not think his intentions were... sexual." 

Warren came away from the wardrobe with a number of collarless shirts and lay them on the edge of the bed, before sitting on the corner of it to rest. "No, he was ranting about your eyes when I met him in the hall and was prying one of my mirrors off the wall in a frenzied state, I doubt the man is stupid enough to drag the whole house into his amorous advances." Warren tilted his head, considering Daniel's wounded hand as Daniel sorted through the shirts and tried them on. "I suppose your eyes have something to do with the bird creature." 

"I think Seward's friend dealt with something preternatural and he is trapped in comparisons to that event. He has told me some of it, of this Count who took his friend away, who was a monstrous man, but I still have very little understanding of what really happened." Daniel found that the first shirt had been too long in the sleeve but the second of a worn and comfortable grey fit him well enough. "Thank you for loaning me your shirt Warren, I'll do my best not to bleed all over it."

"No matter if you do, they're easily replaced, and I'll ask Sarah to mend your shirt for you, buttons are easy enough to replace." 

While Daniel fixed his collar insert and bow-style cravat, Warren returned the other shirts to the wardrobe, "Do you think you might be able to ask Seward what he was looking for with me? Under my clothes I mean?"

Warren made a little hum of consideration, "I think I may already know, actually." Fetching Daniel he took his arm and began to lead him back downstairs. "He's already mentioned it once." But thinking back Daniel could not recall what it was Warren might have meant, and the man seemed to take pity on him for he continued, "I think, as fanciful as it may seem, that he encountered a vampire, or whatever beast that inspired the cultural depiction of that beast." 

His throat and wrists, the way that Seward compared his odd eye-shine to a nocturnal mammal, it all made some sense with the folklore and fairytales, he had hazy impressions of his hands turning the pages on a book as he read it aloud, a lady who came in the night and preyed on pretty young women. 

"Well we're not dealing with that particular occult creation," Daniel marveled a little, "I find it so hard to believe if it did not make so much sense, and yet we are already dealing with creatures one could only describe as demons and they are all to real. But to consider this too? What next, werewolves?"

Warren chuckled and led him finally to the dining room, where Leon and Penelope were already sat. The policeman had tucked well into his lunch but Ms. East was gazing unseeing at the plate before her. Seward had gone somewhere and Daniel could see Sarah through the open door to the kitchen, finishing up with something on the counter, but he could not make out what it was.

"Where has the doctor gone?" Warren asked while helping Daniel to sit. 

It was Leon who answered, which surprised Daniel very little considering the only other person who could was not entirely in the room with them, at least not mentally, he could sympathize with poor Penelope though sometimes he did not want to be there either, "He said he needed to go for a walk to get his head on right, also to send word to his place of work that he'd be out tonight." Leon motioned to the pile of sandwiches, "Make sure you get one at the bottom, they've got the most cheese on them and it's not at all moldy." 

"Why ever would I serve you moldy cheese?" Warren asked, settling down too and Leon blanched a little at the direct statement.

Daniel, while picking out his sandwich, moved to save Leon some embarrassment, "Leon lives and works in Whitechapel, Warren, the cheese is always moldy where we come from."

The relief on the poor policeman's face made it worth it to shove himself into the same pitiful location, but then again the boarding house served him far better when it came to people minding their business and keeping secrets than someplace in a better neighborhood would. After taking the first bite of the sandwich Daniel was hit all at once with his own hunger and he had to keep himself from tearing into it like an animal. Measured bites and he tried to lengthen his chewing so as to not swallow and choke, the first few bites were agony, but then his body realized perhaps that more food was coming and that it could relax. 

"How far you've come today then, did you need to report to duty?" Warren picked out his own sandwich from the tray and shortly afterward Sarah came into the room and sat beside Penelope, taking up her own sandwich as well as one for the young lady. "I fear that we might get you in trouble with your superiors."

"No, I was on my way home last night and off duty till tomorrow." Leon tucked into another sandwich and Daniel joined him quickly after in his second. "So you've got me till tomorrow morn' at least."

"About that," Daniel hedged, after swallowing a mouthful of bread and cured salami, "Leon we think you should stay out of the rest of this, stick here to the house."

Leon looked as if Daniel had called him a terrible thing, "I'm no coward, sir. I mean, Jesus Christ you expect me to let you all go up against that thing alone? It had seventy eyes at least!" Leon put his hand down on the table and leaned forward imploringly toward Daniel across the way, his blonde hair dropping down into his eyes, "Please, I'd never be able to live with myself."

Next to him Penelope had frozen, Sarah still trying her best to get the poor woman to eat, and she rose her gaze to fix on Daniel in a slow unearthly manner, "There's eyes at the windows." 

Daniel felt a spike of forewarning in the hairs raising at the back of his neck, the crawling shiver that ran down his spine, beside him Warren froze too, and almost in tandem they turned to look out the windows behind them when Leon's gaze tore up past Daniel to the glass. 

The person who stood in the bushes was wearing a cloth covered mask, the eyes blacked out. Upon them were black robes, and the overcast day above them had almost entirely masked the figure hiding and watching. Slowly it rose it's hands to place them against the window and where black gloves traced a trail of blood tracked behind. No sooner had Penelope let out a scream did a slam come against the front door, down the hallway and Daniel quickly turned back around to see down the long corridor the straining figure of Doctor Seward, struggling to lock the door's many mechanisms.

"The kitchen!" Warren shouted and Sarah was already clamouring up, rushing toward the back door, but Leon pushed her back and ran forward, slamming into it right as it began to open. 

"More old friends?" Warren asked Daniel with wry humor even as the figure at the window began to beat against it with thick fists. 

"Oh no, I've never seen them before in my life."

"Sarah, get Penelope into the cellar," Warren directed his niece over the sound of the poor woman's hysterical screams, "Daniel they'll no doubt be coming through the windows soon." 

Seward had run down the hall, and Daniel noticed with worry that the man was bleeding, a gash set into his shoulder. "No, no I'm fine." Seward reassured them, and as he was doing this Leon came back in from the kitchen, now holding one of the butcher knives from the rack. 

"Lenny!" Daniel cried out but Seward grabbed his arm before he could rush to the kitchen door.

"I sent him with a message to my secretary with orders for the asylum tonight, he's gone." Seward reassured him, and still holding Daniel he began to move them back toward the hallway, away from the window where the figure had ducked down out of sight. "Warren do you have any weapons?"

"Of course I don't have any weapons, do I look like a sport hunter? I have a cane and a doctorate in languages!" 

Seward glanced at Leon with his butcher knife, "Do you know how to use that?"

Leon gave him a very dry and displeased look that was all the answer needed, of course he did. 

Daniel yelped when the figure jumped back up, now holding a brick, and with a sure aimed throwing arm, crashed it through the window where it landed skidding broken glass upon the table top. Before any of them could react the masked attacker was pulling themselves up into the window, thick clothing protecting it from the jagged remaining glass.

"Oh hell no," Leon said and rushed forward around the table, and pushing with all his might he shoved the figure out of the window. When he came back away his arm was scratched by the broken glass but he was otherwise unharmed, "Oh shit!" Jumping back Leon narrowly avoided being splashed by more broken glass, as another window was shattered. 

From deeper in the house came another clatter, broken glass and then a heavy thump. 

Coming away from the window Leon stood beside them, and had it not been for the man then what happened next would have been far worse than it was.

When the robed figure dashed around the hallway corner Seward was the closest to him, and Daniel stood in transfixed horror as the knife slid past the Doctor's neck right before Leon pushed him out of the way. The mask cracked with the smack of Leon's fist connecting into it but it must have provided some measure of defense for the man just jumped backwards instead of landing flat at Daniel suspected anyone would have with that kind of power taken dead-on. Quick on its feet despite the heavy clothing, the figure jumped back away from Leon but where Leon's reach was limited one of their party had one up on them by way of length and before their attacker could swipe the blade out again Warren's cane whistled through the air.

It was a sound like an alarm, the cane was a thin strength of hearty wood and Warren with his superior upper body strength from years spent relying on his arms more than his legs for support not only knocked the knife to the ground but the sickening crack led Daniel to suppose that their attacker might have broken something. Before the figure could recover Warren had swung his cane back and up and caught the figure right on the chin. The mask was knocked off entirely as the man's head snapped back with the force of the blow and before he had hit the ground Warren had swung back again and the sound of his cane impacting with ribs gave Daniel a visceral sense-memory of blood in his mouth and a hammer in his hands. 

The figure lay heaving on the ground, eyes closed and certainly Warren had broken his ribs. Daniel stooped down and scrambled forward, collecting the knife the man had dropped. When he stood it was to nearly collide with another robed figure coming down the hallway, this one smaller in stature than the last two. In sheer self defense he blindly flung his hand out and ineffectually slashed at the figure who dodged out of the way of him, and reaching out it grabbed his wrist in it's sure grip. He'd been holding the knife in his nondominant hand, and constricted so against the stitches the pressure of the grip and the hilt of the blade tore open his stitches. Crying out with the pain of it the smaller figure attacking him suddenly let go and held their gloved hands up to their ears, as if Daniel's scream had been far louder than it had sounded.

Daniel felt the heat of his blood in his palm and watched as the figure danced back away from him, seizing up like the bird had when the Shadow had taken it, and a decidedly female voice cut the air, the figure screaming and screaming in otherworldly fear. Tightening his hold on the blade, Daniel watched as the lights in the hallway shot brighter, oil taken to the quick and drained down with the expenditure of his own Vitae, his own life blood transformed. This was not the warding word that Warren knew him capable of and yet what choice did he have?

He held the blade up like a finger-point, a wand, a rod, and the cloaked woman froze, her screams strangled in her throat, his blood had dripped down the point, and it gleamed unholy red in the hallway as Daniel stepped toward her. She stepped back, her terror so clear in the stiff manner with which she moved. She spoke words over words, her fear bleeding into a fanatical sort of excitment.

"Why are you here?" Daniel demanded, his voice eerily strong and steady. She had no way of knowing he was terrified too, that he would rather run than attack her, that he had not the stomach to inflict pain on others these days. 

She reached out her hands toward him placating, "Come away home with us lost child, come away home. You will be welcome there, priest, master." She pleaded softly. 

Behind him there was a sudden shout, the clatter of breaking glass, Warren screamed in pain, and Leon howled in rage. When he glanced back she rushed forward and grabbed his hand in her own, holding his wrist steady around the blade and her other hand she took to his nape, holding him steady, keeping him from turning around. He struggled with her, and her mask was close enough to press to him.

"You are so alone, so lonely, and they'll never understand your gifts, your grief. I see it, Assatur he sees it, come away lost son." 

"All of you!" Daniel thrashed, twisting the blade and she lost hold of it as it surely cut through her gloves, "Leave me alone! Leave us alone!" He cried out. 

She let him go and suddenly fled down the hallway and it wasn't until Leon ran past him did he understand why, the man's front covered in blood, and a scream of rage on his tongue. Daniel flung his head around only to see the source of the blood.

The third attacker, the one that had been at the window, was laying prone over the kitchen table, a half dozen or more knife wounds littering his front, his blood a gory spill over the tablecloth. 

But it was not until Daniel saw Seward's bent form over Warren that the rage made sense. His own cry was one of loss and sorrow and he dropped the blade to rush forward, collapsing to his knees beside his mentor.

Seward's hands were coated in blood, holding against a ragged gash in Warren's stomach, and the professor was lucid but so pale. "My gladstone." Seward bit off and Daniel was up and running to the study. 

There was a singular hope in him, that somewhere in the bag was something mystical, that a miracle was hiding there. He brought the bag and Seward directed him to give him tools, gauze, packing. Daniel handed objects numbly, shaking like a leaf, tears tracking his cheeks. 

"It's rather bad." Warren murmured dryly, "The girls?"

"Still in the cellar." Seward told him, his attention entirely on the wound, but Daniel couldn't bring himself to look at it anymore lest he lose his lunch. Too many memories tearing together with his own fear. "Daniel, in the bottom of my bag is a false bottom, take it out if you would?"

Daniel moving with care took apart the bag, finding an odd assortment of tubes and glass, syringes and other implements. 

Leon came back in and moved to his knees on the other side of the Professor, fear and regret in his kind face, "I'm so sorry I let him get to you Dr. Rice." 

Over the weak reassurances of Warren the Doctor gave Leon an order to press the packing down firmly over Warren's stomach. Daniel was grateful it wasn't he who the doctor had asked, he wasn't sure he'd be able to. 

Taking his bloody hands to the odd assortment, Seward began piecing it together, along with the tubing and hung it partially over the back of the chair beside him, one of the few that hadn't been knocked over in the fray. "You're loosing a lot of blood Warren, and while I do surgery I'll be needing to give you my own blood to keep you stable." Seward explained to the professor, and to them too. "I've yet to have a problem with a transfusion and no failure rate so I won't accidentally kill you that way." Seward brushed Warren's bangs back with the edge of his hand with the least blood on it. "Do I have your consent?"

"Doctor I give you permission to cut off my foot if it would keep me alive, give me whatever the devil you want." Warren gasped out, and laughed and it sounded like a death rattle so that Daniel choked off a sob, "Oh shh, Daniel I'll be f-fine." Warren reassured him this time.

The doctor inserted a needle into his own vein and then to Warren's arm and Daniel watched the blood beginning to flow between them. "Fetch me more lights, oil lamps at least three. Leon on a count of three we switch off, yes?" Leon nodded as Daniel pushed himself up and rushed from the room to find the lanterns that the doctor had demanded. He found the second corpse in the study, Leon had taken her down on her way to the window she must have come in through, and her body was broken and bloodied but she had fought him, there were knife marks cutting into the floorboards and a blade still lay in her hand. Her mask had fallen off in the struggle and her dark hair pooled around her pale face. She looked like someone he could have passed on the street a half dozen times and not once remembered, there was something viciously plain about her. 

Jerking himself back into action he collected the two of the lanterns in the study and then another from the parlor, lighting them as he came back to the dining room he set them up close to Warren.

Together Leon and Daniel took turns sopping up the blood to give Seward better access to the wound and with care the man stitched up and staved the flow. Warren slipped out of consciousness and still they worked, Seward's sharp attention taken entirely by his work. 

Finally the blood stopped, finally the torn flesh was being stitched closed entirely, and Seward hunched forward, leaning against the edge of the chair, his upper lip trembling below his mustache with fatigue and stress but Warren breathed still, however pale. "We should call a carriage and take him to a proper hospital but I fear I would trust them very little and I've done what their surgeon might." Seward's hands trembled as he took the needle from his arm and then Warren's.

"Move him up to his bed Leon, Daniel- I," Seward leaned forward heavily, "Help me upstairs would you? I'll need to stay close to him in case he needs more blood. Upstairs at least we can barricade ourselves in. I, I fear I will be little help for your ritual." 

There was also no earthly way that Warren would be joining them now either. He'd hoped to spare Leon of it, but they'd need him now after all, and while the policeman lifted Warren carefully and began to carry him upstairs, Daniel helped the doctor to stand after gathering his bag together. "What was she saying to you?" Seward asked, "It sounded like gibberish."

"I don't know." Daniel kept to himself what she had whispered to him, that he belonged with them. he did not think she'd been there for him, no - no they'd just seen what he was capable of and tried to tempt him for their own ends, but why had they been there to begin with?

Leon had lain the professor out on the bed over his covers and carefully arranged his limbs into a comfortable position. Dragging the vanity chair over to the bed he then helped Daniel to seat the doctor and set him up. "I'll fetch more hot water so you can wash up doc. Sarah showed me how." With that he was gone quickly.

"Should I, should I get Sarah and Penelope?" Daniel asked Seward, defaulting leadership to him as the doctor had so skillfully taken control of the situation earlier but the doctor just looked up at him with absolute exhaustion.

"She shouldn't see her uncle in this manner and Penelope is brittle enough, get them out of here. Take Leon after he's fetched me the water. When Lenny comes back I'll transport Warren to my own home where I can better care for him." Seward closed his eyes and swiped his wrist against his forehead, clearing the perspiration that had gathered there, "I switched from surgery to psychology for a reason you know? I did not want men's lives in my hands, not like this." 

"You've done your best, we never would have gotten him to hospital in time." Daniel reached out and gently braced Seward's shoulder with his unbloodied hand. "With your care he will be fine." Daniel offered what reassurance he could, taking the doctor's weight when he collapsed forward and pressed his forehead to Daniel's stomach. Seward's shoulders trembled under Daniel's hand and he moved his hand up to stroke back Seward's auburn and grey hair. "Jack, it's alright." 

Seward's hands were limp at his sides and he took measured breaths against Daniel, obviously bringing himself back down, with renewed strength the doctor pulled back in time and then he leaned back in the chair to look up at Daniel. "You've brought me into quite an adventure, Daniel." Seward smiled up at him weakly, "I feel as if I am greatly under-prepared for it. But that is often the way of these things." 

Leon's footsteps took them out of their thoughts and he brought a bucket in, to which Seward washed his hands and then began to clean up Warren. 

"We're going to take Sarah and Penelope someplace safe, Jack is going to take Warren home with him." Daniel reported to Leon, leading him out, but halfway down the stairs the policeman paused them, looking to him with frozen fear he wondered if there was another attacked in the house but there was nothing but the sound of their own breath and outside in the dim fall day the sound of birdsong. "Leon?" He questioned.

"We should do it." Leon looked at him, or down at him, the policeman had some height on Daniel and his earnest blue eyes were sharp still from the battle. The blood on his hands was only partially Warren's after all. "The thing that will get that demon off our backs. We should do it tonight. Sarah can fill in for her uncle, she's smart and was telling me all sorts of things her parents showed her." 

It did not surprise Daniel that in the short time they'd spent together Sarah had spoken so in depth with Leon, the man had a sort of bearing to him, one that just made you want to trust him, clearly it had affected Daniel too. "I see the sense in your words but Warren would never forgive me if I dragged his niece into this." 

Leon nodded and sighed softly, looking away. But while Warren might never forgive him, the policeman had a good point. Sarah had been taught much by her parents, her father had been capable of warding work and she'd done something to keep herself alive when they had died. She was well versed in languages and could no doubt fill in for her uncle.

Now separated from Seward and Warren, Daniel was once again in control, as he had been before on matters concerning the ritual. He was now undeniably the one with the most experience in their party and he would need someone who could understand the work he was to be doing. "We'll ask her." He sighed, "We've little other choice unless we track down one of those attackers and politely request their assistance." 

"What did they even want?" Leon asked but Daniel had no answer to give him but a shrug and together they made their way down the stairwell toward the door in the kitchen Sarah and Penelope had run into earlier.


	15. Slaves of Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoggoth, shoggoth, shoggoth  
> With mouths and pseudopods  
> Shoggoth, shoggoth, shoggoth  
> Foul creature of the gods~

The cellar door was set into the brick wall of the kitchen and while Leon knocked on it, Daniel washed his hands in the bucket of dishwater in the sink. He'd gotten Warren's shirt bloody not an hour after being lent it, prophetic the words said in jest had been, and Daniel sighed. 

"It's Leon and Daniel!" Leon called out and there was no wonder in Daniel when it was Sarah who opened the door.

Her hair had been brought up into a kerchief and her apron was sooty but she was unharmed and she gripped the paring knife in her right hand, but seeing it was them she quickly folded it away into her apron's folds. Then she saw the blood on them, more so on Leon and she grasped out at them, "Uncle?" Because of course, Sarah was smart just as Leon had said, she knew no doubt that it should have been her uncle at the door to fetch her if he was alright. 

"He was hurt, Doctor Seward performed surgery on him, he's resting upstairs, he'll be alright. But we'd better leave while we can." Daniel took a breath and began again before she could argue him, "Sarah we need your help. Your uncle was to help us banish the thing that is hunting Ms. East, but he will be unable to now. Is it true you have skill in the more esoteric... arts?" Daniel asked her bluntly and therefore derailed her. 

"I... yes I do, father taught me how to make the warding words and mother was very good at stitching him up." 

"I would never ask you this if I had any other choice, you are a girl I know and your uncle will never forgive me for doing this but I see little choice otherwise than to do so, would you be willing to help us in our task?"

Penelope had slowly begun to come up the steps and it was with a glance down them at her did Daniel witness Sarah making her decision. It was not overly surprising that she saw the same weakness and need in Penelope as they all did, and that Sarah, being a stronger woman herself, even just a child, felt some responsibility toward Penelope, afterall her Uncle had placed the lady into Sarah's care.

"Of course I'll help you." Sarah stated and pushed up the sleeves of her dress. "Where are we going?" 

"First we'll drop by the police box on the other side of the bridge and tell them to send men around, I know Seward will be put out but someone needs to report this. Leon could you handle that so we're unhindered by it?"

Leon nodded, "You bet I can, it's my day off they won't want me hanging around else they'll have to put out more pay and I'm not even a detective. They won't want me anywhere near a potential crime or I might stick my nose in." He grinned boyishly and Daniel was once more struck by the feeling of being the oldest person in the room just based on life experience and his own emotional fatigue. Still it was at least encouraging, he could not help but be hopeful with Leon there keeping things a little more buoyant. 

Sarah took up Penelope's hand in her own and carefully Leon and Daniel kept the lady from seeing into the dining room, taking her straight out the kitchen door. 

The grey day had turned darker still, the clouds rising up in a growing storm of rolling black like the rough ocean waves that had carried Daniel back to London and looking up at that sea he knew it as portent, they were losing light and time, "We need a marble floor." 

"That bath house on Lion Street has a marble floor." Leon offered up. 

"We cannot take the ladies into that kind of establishment." Daniel hissed but Sarah and Penelope had both heard, unfortunately.

"Why not?" Sarah demanded. 

"It is the nudity." Penelope whispered to her, "Father had reliefs of the Grecian bath houses and the men's little fruits were chipped off. I thought they were all like that under their clothing until we went to the Paris museum, they kept them on!" 

Daniel led them along the line of trees, a bit off from the house and as such with better line of sight on any potential lurkers, yet they made it to the road unhindered. "As much as I loathe to, we'll need to track back to the boarding house, I need to change and maybe we'll be able to find someone with clothing you might borrow Sarah." 

Sarah glanced over at him as he spoke and clicked her tongue against her teeth in a thoughtful manner, "I can just borrow some of yours. If I put back my hair I can pretend to be a lad." On her arm Penelope giggled, the sound of it sent Daniel's nerves on edge, something just not right. Sarah patted her arm and she quieted, thankfully.

"I've very few garments to my name and you may not want what I do have, but I'll allow you to make that decision for yourself." 

Once off the lane that led into the little cul de sac of private homes they met the bustle of activity once more as they passed along the edge of the academic district and the canal that bordered it leading to the bridge. Keeping to the alleys and side-lanes and hemming around the canal they remained unhindered and mostly unseen, luckily not just by would-be attackers but by shop keepers or concerned citizens, Leon looked a wreck and Daniel missed his traveling coat, still hung up at Warren's house, as shoving his sleeves up to hide the blood had left him fighting against the bitter fall air. To make matters worse it began to drizzle as they were halfway over the bridge and with no carriages in sight and no shelter to take cover under, they were all quickly weighed down by the nearly freezing rain. 

"Go on to the boarding house, I'll meet you back there." Leon bade them and despite not wanting to part them again, Daniel saw no choice in the manner, they couldn't stand about loitering in the rain while waiting for the policeman to report the whole matter, already poor Penelope's lips were nearly purple and his own teeth were chattering. But right before they parted ways Leon removed the butcher knife from his pocket and held it out to Daniel. "I'll teach you how to fight yet red-head." Leon's grin was endearing even though the man was clearly teasing him. He took the murder weapon from Leon and wrapped it up with the gauze he'd removed to clean his hands and tucked in his pocket earlier, and then he put it away into his pocket again. 

Making their farewells they continued on toward the boarding house, Daniel only a little lost but with enough directional knowledge to get them close enough to the neighborhood before familiar sights took over and he could use landmarks to lead them the rest of the way. While Sarah and himself were largely silent the entire time, Penelope spoke quietly of all manner of things, from the parts of the city she'd never seen and was able to now explore with them, to her upcoming debutante party. The way she spoke was as if this was all a temporary nightmare, and soon she would awaken from it and everything would be fine again, Daniel wished Seward was here with his bag of medicines, with something to say or do to stabilize her. 

For her part Sarah was terribly patient with Penelope and listened to her attentively, even though she did not add much to Penelope's one sided conversation. 

By the time they did reach the boarding house, nearly an hour later, the three of them were soaked through to the very marrow of their bones, even Sarah whose complexion was a touch darker than Daniel's and Penelope's had turned pale and tinged nearly blue. When the three of them entered the foyer of the boarding house Mrs. Forrestson looked up from her knitting and slowly tracked the three of them from head to toe before dropping to the floor of her foyer where their combined clothing had begun to form a sizeable puddle.

"Mr. Tremaine, if I were not fond of you, as I am, I would throw you right out, the working girls at least have the good judgment to use the kitchen door when they come in a wreck." She sighed and stood, eyeing up the two girls once more, "I suppose these are your... sisters?" 

"For tonight yes, and for proprieties sake, yes." Daniel's teeth chattered along with his words, leaving them sounding most pitiful. Luckily for him Mrs. Forrestson was clearly going to take pity upon him for coming in looking like a drowned rat. Not to mention the two women he’d brought in with him were clearly of a higher status than most of her clientele, “I’ll pay for extra blankets and something to sop up the water too.” Daniel began to bundle them up the stairs while Mrs. Forrestson ducked back into her office. 

Penelope had already been there once before and led Sarah to his room, the two of them stepping aside to allow him to unlock the door. With a ruthless sort of efficiency he bit into his knuckle and the lights all lit brilliantly, the fire roaring to life. Sarah jerked back in some shock at the sudden brightening of the room but was quickly pulled by Penelope to sit before the roaring fireplace. 

Daniel was quick to take the stitches from his palm, Sarah watching him in unbridled interest, her sharp brown eyes taking in his methodical unraveling. When he picked up the soap-stone star Penelope wrinkled her nose at it and looked away but Sarah watched in amazement as it stitched his skin up. 

“My uncle!” She stated in a mixture of accusation and hope and he felt terribly having to shake his head.

“It wouldn’t work for him I fear.” He took the star over to them and held it out to Sarah who looked at it but then refused to pick it up, “You see, it’s not... right?” Daniel asked and she nodded, turning her gaze to the fire as Penelope had. He put the star into his pocket as well as one of the Baron’s curved silver knives. 

“You are a strange young man.” Sarah stated but it was not an insult, or at least not meant to be one and he did not take it as such. “Clothing?” She asked and Daniel nodded, moving to his chest, and from it he took some of his tattered traveling clothes, unfortunately it was all he’d have to offer and yet Sarah took them thankfully ignoring the patched appearance and ripped sleeve-cuff. Stepping out into the hallway to allow her to change and for Penelope to hang her own dress to dry he went in search of a replacement dress for Ms. East. 

He encountered the cook on the landing who giggled at his state, she was holding a blanket with a stack of rags and he directed her to knock before entering for his ‘sisters’ were changing, before he went back down to see Mrs. Forrestson directing Corvis in mopping up the foyer. He was at least tracking far less rain now so she did not look so put out to see him. 

Producing a sizeable amount of coin he held it forth to Mrs. Forrestson who quickly secreted it away, “What might I help you with dear Mr. Tremaine?” She asked, laying the honey on thick. 

“A dress for the blonde I brought in, some food brought up to my room enough to feed four, and a coat that would fit me.”

Mrs. Forrestson looked at him shrewdly, “I’ve got the first two but that coat will take me a bit a’time. An hour?”

“I’ve got that.” Daniel took himself back upstairs, and waiting with his back up against the wall he listened to the mumble of voices in his room, the shrill laugh of Penelope and the following titter of the cook. Not a full five minutes later did the door open and she exited, taking the soaked rags with her, “Are they decent?”

She did not answer, it was Sarah’s voice from inside the room that answered instead, “Yes, come along in, Mr. Tremaine.”

“Please use Daniel, Sarah, else no one will believe you’re meant to be here.” She had filled out his clothing admirably even though she’d had to roll up the cuffs of the shirt and slacks, and with her hair pulled into a low ponytail and her head scarf draped around her shoulders she passed as a very comely boy.

For her part Penelope was wrapped up in his blanket as well as the spare that the cook had brought, wearing her underclothes he presumed, although she was carefully concealed as bundled as she was under all the blankets on the lounge. Her dress was hanging up near the window and Daniel did a double-take as he could have sworn he’d seen a black bird-like form peeking around the dress through the window but when he looked again there was nothing more than the dark shadows brought forward by the high rooftops and close confines of the alley. 

“Sorry Daniel, it’s just you’re much older, I did not want to offend you.” Sarah sighed softly, “Father’s friends were always much offended when I called them by their given names.” She took stock of him and gave a little half smile, “I suppose you aren’t much in the way of my father’s age anyway.” 

“I would hope not, I am not even in my thirties yet, child.” Daniel laughed sharply when his words caused Sarah to playfully smack his chest. Past them Penelope laughed clearly delighted like a child watching a Punch puppet and they stilled then. “I asked Mrs. Forrestson to bring Penelope up a dress.” 

“Oh good, I fear mine didn’t fit her very well anyway.” Sarah motioned to the dress that was hanging up in the window and of course Daniel thought, it had been a borrowed one, Penelope’s own might still be hanging up on the line in the backyard of Warren’s home. “These fit well enough though, you’re a very slim man!” Sarah stated, clearly in a tone that meant she was giving Daniel a compliment even though Daniel was chiefly feeling his lack of strength and imposing stature after the events at the house. Nearly overpowered by a lady of slim stature herself. “Thank you Daniel.” And here Sarah reached out beseechingly and took his wrist in her hand, “Tell me what happened to my Uncle.” 

There was no getting away from it this time, they were gathering themselves still and in this calm of the storm he had nothing but time to kill while waiting for Leon to return and for dark to fall, trying to use a bathhouse for their means in the middle of the day would do them little good and just bring the constabulary to the scene. He brought her to sit on the edge of his trunk and sat with her, and when she took his hand properly he didn’t draw it away, merely quietly and companionably stroked it with his free hand, staring at the ground. 

He told her about what he had seen when he came back in, the corpse and Warren’s own prone form. How quickly the doctor reacted to the situation, how Leon and himself attended the surgery and how Seward had given the professor his own blood. There was a detached manner to his speech until the end, when he recounted how Leon and himself had spoken on the stairs and he had made the decision to ask Sarah to replace her uncle in the ritual. “He’ll never forgive me.” And here Daniel broke his hands from the clasp to press them hard against his stinging eyes, a bitter laugh curling around his tongue, “I knew I would mess it all up but I wasn’t ready for it to be so soon.”

Sarah reached out and took his shoulder and with the same quiet strength and bitter jaded humor as her uncle she shook Daniel, “Get ahold of yourself.” She stated very matter of factly, “Uncle Warren is a stick in the mud who wants me to excel at everything and yet won’t let me go anywhere but the sewing circle or university classes, he doesn’t control us Daniel, this needs to be done lest you all end up something’s breakfast. So man up will you?” 

Daniel was very strongly reminded that Ms. Armitage was an American through and through despite her dwindling accent, and he laughed nervously, eyes glancing to the delighted look on Penelope’s face at the young lady’s outburst. “Alright, yes, I suppose my breakdown is better suited for another time.” He glanced between the two women and tilted his head, “Penelope, I apologize, I never did ask you if you would attend. We need you for the ritual, to bring the creature to us.”

The blonde nodded, and Daniel was relatively assured she had absolutely no idea what he meant, and he knew it made him an appalling sort of guardian to take advantage of her state. 

At his elbow Sarah gently tugged his arm, “Daniel, lets go check on your landlady’s progress.” He took the hint and followed the girl turned lad out into the hallway, when she closed the door she stilled and then sharply threw her hand back toward it and as such motioned toward the woman inside, “She’s off her feckin’ rocker, Daniel.” Sarah took a deep breath and then it all came out in a burst, “You weren’t trapped down there in the cellar with her, I thought I was going to strangle her and end all our problems by the time you knocked and got us out of there. I was younger than she was when I saw my parents slaughtered and I didn’t close up like that, she’s not right upstairs.”

“Please, Sarah. I was at one time little better than her, in fact I would go so far as to say I was much worse. She is a lady of some higher standing and used to a far different life than what you grew up in.” Daniel nearly pleaded for her patience, “Thank you so much for taking care of her so far, it will only be a short while longer.” Hopefully, oh by the Gods he did hope tonight would solve their problems entirely. Well, their’s and not his, he did not yet know what he had agreed to with the Guardian yet. If he didn’t stop long enough to think about it, he could continue outrunning the fear indefinitely. 

Taking the stairs together, Daniel half tried to avoid hearing Sarah’s snort of derision but as she was right at his elbow he could not pretend otherwise, “I’m certain once free of all this she’ll no doubt create some fantasy to explain it all away or come down from her fearful heights.” 

Sarah looked less and less convinced, “Daniel, you are going to need to come to terms with the fact that she is not your responsibility or you are going to be overtaken by your guilt. I saw it happen, over and over, some people are not prepared. Some people never get over it, like you have. You didn’t hear her, and you might never like I did down there in the dark. She’s already gone.” Her argument only jabbed the guilt deeper cutting him open, that already there was no hope, and Daniel remembered the words in his own letter to himself, that before-Daniel who had been driven mad and in one lucid moment of clarity had given his soul one last out. “I’ve been here before, father dealt in this trade, and some people you just can’t bring back.”

He had no Damascus Rose to wipe it all away for poor Penelope East.

“Please Sarah,” he whispered pained and drawn, “Later.” They had reached the foyer and Mrs. Forrestson with her knitting.

“An early dinner will be up for you shortly, I sent someone to ask with the girls for one of their cleanest dresses. Well,” Mrs. Forrestson laughed as she got a good look at Sarah at his elbow, “Don’t you make a handsome lad then?” 

Sarah flushed and grasped Daniel’s arm as if she were receiving a compliment from an eligible bachelor and not the portly figure of his landlady, and Daniel was reminded then that Sarah had a hard time connecting with her peers, by way of the sewing circle, so it was little wonder she had troubles here.

“Oh please do not tease her so.” Daniel sighed and Mrs. Forrestson gave him a put out look.

“It twas a good compliment.” Mrs. Forrestson turned her gaze back down to her knitting. “What have you done with Lenny?”

“He went to do an errand for the doctor.” 

Mrs. Forrestson arched her eyebrow but did not look up at him, “Oh yes, for the Doctor.” She said the title as if she were implying something and Daniel did not at all like the implication, he had thought they’d been done with this. “What about your strapping young Police man who set my whole establishment into a tizzy last night with his sudden presence?”

“He’ll be arriving shortly. You really needen’t worry about him, he won’t cause anyone any problems here.” Daniel glanced down the hallway toward the dining table, he’d not even gotten to finish his sandwich and he felt lightheaded and ever so hungry. “We were just going to check on the food.” He hedged sideways, delicately leading Sarah around the caged desk and toward the hallway to the kitchen proper. 

“Strange young man.” He overheard Mrs. Forrestson murmur right before they were out of earshot. 

The dining room was empty this early in the day, not quite dinner and far past breakfast. Halfway around the table and nearly to the kitchen the scream cut him to the quick, dragging his breath right from his lungs and at his side Sarah froze before running right for the sound, into the kitchen. 

At the East estate he’d had the good luck to be in a position to avoid looking at it dead on. In the tight confines of the boarding house’s ancient kitchen there was nowhere for his eyes to cast to be free of it. The black oily creature stood hunched in the doorway a big hulking thing of too many limbs and too much space, it’s amorphous form adapting and collapsing. Talons caused a torrent of sound where they scrapped along the cobblestone trying to pull it’s hulking frame through the back door like a colt on shaky legs, a newborn creature desperately adapting to life, or in this case a monster from the stars trying to acclimate to a space far too small for it. 

The young cook was standing on the far wall, throwing pots and pans at it and Sarah stood right past the doorway, staring at the thing. A cast iron skillet hit it upon the infinite bulging eyes that blinked and rolled upon its mishappen head and it howled an unearthly sound. Screaming mindlessly, the young woman began to throw the dirty dishes from breakfast at it next. 

Behind him Daniel could hear Mrs. Forrestson cursing and coming down the hallway, turning with haste he slammed the door to the kitchen shut and shoved the table the cook had sat him at days ago up against it. When he half turned around the thing was looking at him with at least half of it’s innumerous eyes, salivating some acidic goo from it’s unholy maw of circular teeth it hissed out it’s strange many-voiced words at him. 

“You will make a pretty gift to the Deep Ones little one.” The Shoggoth spoke and Daniel set his teeth against the maddening laughter that threatened to take him entirely. He had nowhere to look but at it, he had nowhere to run that would not endanger the entire boarding house and Penelope too. 

Taking his knife from his pocket he pointed it at the Thing, “What’s your name? Do you have names?” Forced bravado, Sarah was pressed up with the cook girl, who was still throwing things at the creature. 

“Bright.” It spoke and the cook put her hands to her ears and screamed endless and long, and Daniel threw a quelling look at Sarah who grasped her close and muffled the woman’s cry against her shoulder, holding her tightly. “Bright.” It’s ever changing form could still not adapt to allow it to squeeze through the door, but it was beginning to claw its way longer, a snake of strange angles and planes, elongating and breaking through the straining door. 

“Bright is it? I daresay you won’t like this.” Daniel turned his blade back on himself and cut open his palm and then kept going upward, slitting his wrist open and jerking the knife almost all the way to the span of his elbow. The cast iron door to the stove poor Cor had just been cooking on blew open with the force of the fire within it, exploding outward to impact with the morphing flesh-beast trapped in the doorway. The flame that followed was the combined force of Daniel’s own pain and fear, a manic sort of explosion of energy that engulfed the ever adapting and evolving form of the shoggoth. 

Daniel was correct, it did not like that, and it screamed it’s unholy anger and tore at the stones, actually uprooting some of them from the grout. A number of it’s endlessly blinking eyes seared over and sunk into the swollen flesh of it before more formed, maddening and maddened. Daniel gave a weak and tittering laugh before he picked up the nearest oil lamp and threw it arching at the raving beast, his blood following in droplets that sizzled against the creature when they hit it’s hulking front-form. 

Something suddenly smacked heavily against the flank of the beast, causing it to cry out and fall forward, but Daniel did not pause in his attack to check what it was that had caused the thing to lurch forward. He cut himself again, opening the vein and held the blood to flow, and even as he grew cold the oil soaking the creature burst into an explosion of flame that dried his clothing all the way through and seared the nearby wooden counters. Screaming the thing tore itself backwards, again and again, now trying to get out of the press of the doorway and the alleyway behind it. Something smacked it again, and lurching forward one last time it blindly lashed out at Daniel, and nearly caught him. 

Someone suddenly grasped his bleeding hand holding it high and he looked to see Sarah holding her paring knife in free hand, and her own blood soaking through with his from her split palm. Turning back to the shoggoth he expended what strength remained to him and pushed it back with one last blast of heat. Free of the door it scrambled like an oversized dog in the alleyway and then took off into the shadows, howling all the way. 

The last thing he saw before blood loss took him down was Leon coming in through the open door, holding a pipe in his hands like a bully club. 


	16. Settle

He is in the castle and the Baron, dearest Alexander, is teaching him the uses of damascus rose. Showing him the beautifully horrific uses of it against tortured prisoners.

Alexander’s form drifts, as if a dashed reflection in an otherwise still pond, Daniel could not mistake it this time, the dreamlike quality of his awareness became too much to ignore. 

“You are reckless.” The voice came from behind him even though the man was in front of him bent at the table, and Daniel stepped back, leaving himself there. An entirely surreal experience to see himself watching Alexander with such hunger and longing and yet be separate from that emotion and body. He turned from the memory to see the Baron in his Unholy Splendor sitting up on the gardening table, baskets of freshly picked roses beside him, his four hands fiddling with one of the cut stems, talon-like fingertips dragging against the thorns. He looked almost contrite, a feat indeed for his face was wholly incapable of human emotion. 

“Baron.” Daniel greeted, trying to keep his tone from being too very bitter and furious. He would wince at the sound of petulance in his own voice if he was not adopting a front of ambivalence. The alien limbs, the hunched spine, the hair that stretched and tangled and lay like it’s own life form over the Baron, there was not a single unsettling thing about the Baron that Daniel did not find himself irrevocably drawn to. Even as his ire grew he wanted nothing more than to bury himself against the man’s front and hide from the world. 

“At first I thought I was going mad to dream of you, my hallucinations of you coming and going through my centuries of exile.” Putting the rose stem down the Baron held open his arms to Daniel, beseechingly and with so clear an invitation Daniel could not help himself, too weak, too tired. He nearly tripped to place himself there, right between the part of the man’s legs where he was so perfectly bundled up in the many sleeves of the man’s robes. It was not until he was drawn into that embrace that he felt how weak he was, how his body shook and he was frozen to his very soul. A hand gripped his hip, another the back of his neck, a third hand grasped against the center of his back, and the final of the four clutched between his shoulder blades. “You do vex me so, Daniel.”

“I hate you.” Daniel whispered, muffled against the man’s high collar.

“I love you too, my little Dancer.” 

Reality hit him like a tidal wave, the boarding house in London, the Shoggoth and his own teetering sanity, Leon and Sarah, poor Penelope. Warren’s gutted open stomach, the white glint of his entrails with Seward’s steady hands covered in blood. More blood, his own and Sarah’s co-mingled. He pulled back, to look up at Alexander, a fury in him, a swell of hopelessness, of frustration, of fear and loss, regret and guilt. 

“YOU KNOW ABSOLUTELY NOTHING OF LOVE!” He railed against those arms, at himself, at the Baron. Behind him Daniel and Alexander spoke of Damascus Rose and unknowingly, Daniel’s own future, “What you’ve done to me, you think I can still love you? That I still love you?” He shrieked it, his pain and his desolation. His hands balling into fists and he moved to strike at the Baron only to have his arms caught and held. The man-creature towered above him in a way that Seward nor any other human man could ever, even bent over him as the Baron was he was dwarfed in the man’s shadow. 

“Daniel.” The Baron snapped at him, entwined was a plea and a demand, an order but Daniel railed against that too despite his every instinct to bend and submit to his heart’s master. 

“To love you would certainly prove me to be insane.” He shouted up at that monster and then he pushed himself up, arching forward, and captured the Baron’s unholy maw in a kiss, his eyes shut tight with bitter tears.

Cradled, clutched close, held dear, as he had so wanted to be. It was he who was hallucinating, dreaming of a man who never loved him anyway, turning and twisting in his dwindling sanity, yes he was a Dancer, but not of the traditional sort. Leaps of logic and pirouettes of lucidity, and each turn he made in this insane waltz took him further and further still from his humanity. Reckless indeed, and he would fling himself about till he was free of it all entirely. 

The Baron melted against him, held him clutching with all those hands again, and the inhuman shapes of his face angled and morphed like that thick slick creature that had tried to get in through the kitchen door in London, taking the regal and sharp form of the man who had greeted him in Prussia. Pliant lips and warm breath, Daniel submitted himself to the ardor of the kiss, collapsing forward so that the Baron had to take his weight entirely. Readily it was taken indeed, and the Baron hefted him up by his thighs, dragging him upward and then to straddle upon his lap. Daniel groaned into the kiss as his hips ground up against the Baron's own hidden flesh, but the extra bits that were so ardent were gone today. His imagination had not left him hanging though, for all four of the Baron's hands were most intent upon his body.

"What happened?" The Baron asked, holding up Daniel's hand and it was only then did he realize it was cut open nearly to the bone in places. In the dream it hurt very little, how deeply layered down he was, but there was no denying it was there. Daniel did not want to focus on it nor did he want to answer the Baron's question. He wanted the man's attention yes, but not like that. Why had they stopped kissing? He tried to take the Baron's lips again but the man took him by the chin and looked at him very sternly.

Groaning, Daniel glanced back at his arm. "There is a Shoggoth in London and it tried to get into the kitchen so I threw fire at it, and used the vitae to," he cast about for the right words, "Embolden the blaze." 

The Baron's mouth, not maw, opened and closed a few times, his regal brow furrowing, Daniel felt a keen curl of pride that he'd flabbergasted the man, even though it was all in his head. "What the devil, Daniel?" The Baron carefully stroked his wrist again, around the puckered flesh of his earlier work. "You have become so very strong, I wonder if you even need me at all?"

It was an odd statement to make considering Daniel had invented the man up in his dream to begin with, of course he needed him, irrevocably so, otherwise why taunt himself with these fever dreams at all? They were not guilt induced hallucinations, no the way the Baron touched him and the things they'd done thus far in his dreams were not entirely driven by guilt, and even when they were they did not end that way. Daniel had been a virgin when he came to Prussia, he was still a virgin now, but he didn't feel it. The brand of his own imaginary Baron was seared down into his soul. 

"I need you." Daniel whispered, looking up at the Baron above him, and the man lent forward and lathed his tongue down the line cut into his wrist. The strike of arousal was nearly painful and he cried out, closing his eyes tight. "Please." He whispered.

"I would take your desire even if it was all you ever offered me, you are so irresistible, liebling." 

Daniel mewled, an embarrassing sound, needy and open as the Baron scrapped his talon-like nails down his back. "I love you." He confessed, shaking bone deep still, he was so cold, but the Baron held no heat before him, no matter how he pushed and tucked himself in against the man, there was nothing but more cold. 

"And I," but whatever the Baron was going to say melted away, the greenhouse with it's beautiful roses gone, the damned little murderer and his mentor waved away like so much smoke. 

Daniel was laying on his bed in the boarding house, but his head was not on pillows and was instead on Leon's lap, who was looking down at him with a very relieved grin. The young man’s hand was in his hair petting it back and Daniel realized there was a body tucked in against his. Glancing over he saw Sarah’s head pillowed on his shoulder, her hand grasped around his arm - and the sandstone star pressed between them. The wound had stopped bleeding but had not healed entirely, but as soon as he studied it and moved his hand some impression of his own will must have activated the stone for his skin knitted closed again. 

“Hey there little red-head, you gave us all a scare.” Leon’s voice was a near whisper, perhaps to allow poor Sarah her rest, she had no useful stone healing device of her own to use, Daniel noticed her own cut hand had been bandaged with scrap cloth. He glanced over to the right, catching sight of Penelope curled up on the lounge he then lay his head back and closed his eyes again, letting out a shaky sigh. “The cook is convinced we all saved her from a rabid dog.” Leon said companionably, still gently carding though his hair, stopping right before the neat braid Warren had put it in. 

Daniel choked down a manic laugh, a dog, that was no dog, but he’d been there once before too, he guessed, there was no knowing what kind of lies he’d told himself when the Shadow had first begun to hunt him. He turned, bone-deep tired, his body curving to meet Sarah’s and he half-held her, pillowed against Leon. 

“What time is it?” He had turned away from the window entirely, not that it did much to tell the time of day even when he was looking at it, but it prevented him from making even a guess.

“Little bit before dinner I’d say, five thirty or so. The lady in charge here was sending a boy in to help clean up the kitchen and then they were going to bring us up a right feast she said. A whole roast chicken and everything.” Leon who likely had not eaten since the sandwich too, was likely as starved as Daniel was if not more, so it did not surprise one to hear the relish with which he spoke of a chicken dinner. 

There was a clear statement of impropriety in how they were all bundled up on the bed together, but Daniel was too tired and warmed by the company to retire back to his sensibilities. It was in this manner that he drifted on the cusp of consciousness for some time, resting as his fatigued body rebuilt it’s strength.

When finally the Cook returned and with her Corvis, they brought with them a literal feast, as if it were Christmas come. Her gratitude and Mrs. Forrestson’s own were clear, and Daniel was too tired and hungry to feel guilty of taking advantage of their mistake. They did not need to know that it was he who had brought that ‘dog’ to them, he who had nearly gotten them killed. 

Penelope roused at the scent of a proper meal, but Sarah slept on so that it took Daniel shaking her to awaken her. Groaning she untangled herself from the bed and like an undead creature she carried herself forth to the food and set in on heaping a plate with mash and a good bit of chicken.

There were thanks all around to the poor cook who tearfully thanked them in return for defending her from that beast, and Daniel was not too surprised to see that Sarah and Leon were equally nervous at being thanked for it. When she had left them to their supper and Mrs. Forrestson had told them very sternly she was going to bed and that any further mishaps were all theirs to take care of, they tucked into their dinner in earnest. Penelope was recounted in full with the events, but Daniel doubted that the poor lady understood much of it, and they left out the more ‘mystical’ parts of the event entirely. 

“When do you think would be the best time to sneak into the bathhouse?” Daniel asked Leon, guessing that the man probably had a good handle of when crimes should be committed if he were in the business of stopping them from happening. 

“Around two in the morn, right before the bakery people will be going into work, and past when most everything is shut for the night. There isn’t a pub on that side of the street so we won’t be dealing with the drunks.”

“How exciting.” Penelope stated, picking at the chicken Sarah had plated for her. “Breaking into places like common thieves.”

“Save we won’t be stealing anything.” Daniel helped himself to another bit of chicken breast noticing that between the four of them they’d nearly picked clean the creature which had not been very large to begin with, but was likely the most expensive one that their hosts could afford. He hoped that the cook had gotten herself a bit of the bottom of the carcass to herself, she deserved it having survived through that ordeal with her sanity intact. 

“Where does your driver stay, Daniel?” Sarah began, “I’d like to see if he has any word on my uncle.” 

“One of the rooms here, we might be able to get someone to track him down if he’s not sitting around in the foyer.” Finishing up his meal. Daniel moved up, “I will go look for him.”

“I’ll come too.” Leon jumped up, perhaps too abruptly. He wasn’t even done with his meal yet, and Daniel looked at him with some mild concern, “I mean, it’s better if we go together right? Safer in pairs.” 

Nodding he bade Leon come along with him and taking one of the lamps off the wall he held it up to light their passage.

Following along beside him, Leon was wiping his hands clean on a bloodied kerchief and Daniel noted that at some point the man had changed his clothing and cleaned up the blood from himself. Even Daniel had been tended to in his passed out state, and Sarah had been bandaged up and relatively unbloody. 

“Honestly we were all just a little worried about you, firecracker.” Leon said at his elbow, keeping close enough to the pool of light and by proxy Daniel himself that he could almost feel the man’s body heat radiating next to him. “You weren’t waking up so we just took you upstairs and Sarah showed me that trick with the rock.” 

Daniel couldn’t hide his soft amusement at the entire fiasco being described in so succinct a manner and Leon gave him a little sideways smirk. 

“You are very peculiar Leon, I doubt many men, even of the constabulary would rush toward violence in a manner so like yourself.” 

“Someone has to come when it all goes to hell, someone has to help, right?” Leon’s words were almost painful to hear, Daniel was not nearly strong enough a man to consider that kind of idealism and bravery. “You can’t be expected to deal with this all on your own. No one should, that’s why I do what I do. I want to help people.”

Daniel was at a loss for words and was still struggling to come up with something to say in the face of all that Leon was, when in their passage halfway down the stairs, Lenny caught sight of them from where he’d posted his chair by the front door. As such Daniel was saved having to say anything at all, by the man rushing forward to meet them at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Cor, Mr. Daniel you gave me a right good scare with all that, and your poor friend, what the devil happened? Is that why you have this police escort now?!” Lenny’s questions were too numerous and Daniel did not even begin to want to answer any of them. 

“Please Lenny, it has been a day. I merely came to ask how you found the Doctor and my dear friend the Professor.” 

“Well that Doctor of yours looked right exhausted and the Professor was awake enough when we were lifting him up into the carriage to nearly ring my neck, feisty he is and not at all appreciative of my bedside manner. There were all manner of copper crawling over the place too but I didn’t tell them nothing.” Lenny patted his pockets down, “One of em gave me a card if I ever remembered anything, I thought you might like to have it.” 

Leon glanced at the calling card but didn’t recognize the name and as such Daniel tucked it away into his pocket.

“I took the doctor and your professor to the doctor’s own house over near the asylum and helped set him up in grand fashion let me tell you that guest room is posh.”

“How did Warren look?”

“Like he’d been stabbed, seen it enough, he’ll pull through don’t you worry Mr. Daniel.” 

Daniel was not entirely reassured by that statement but he nodded, “Thank you Lenny, please do go up and get some proper rest, I won’t be needing you till in the morn. I’m certain that Ms. Rice will want to be taken to visit her uncle tomorrow.”

Bidding them a good night Lenny went up the stairs to his room and Daniel ducked outside, Leon following after him with a questioning sound. 

Putting his back up against the wall Daniel centered himself on the quiet street, his lantern arm lowering till the light dangled at his side. He was still able to see far better than he ever had at night, the unholy gift from the Shadow or whatever it was that had caused his eyes to change, still gave him that nearly unnerving night-sight. 

“Are you okay?” Leon asked, putting himself at an angle between the street and the building, somewhat shielding Daniel merely by his size in comparison. 

“I think, I just needed air.” He tilted his head up to look at the stars, “Do you have any siblings Leon?”

“No but I have a best friend who might as well be my sister. We’ve been through a lot together. Sort of like what we’re all going through now, just maybe not as weird. I think it’s these kinds of things that bind people together though. I mean if you survive something like many eyed monsters and strange magic rituals together, that’s like family right?” 

Daniel glanced at him with a wry soft smile, “Yes I suppose so. My last adventure left me as the remaining survivor, I would have liked to have gone with... with my friend Agrippa, but I didn’t belong there.” Maybe if he had not been quite so in love with his own personal definition of the Devil himself he could have gone with Weyer and Agrippa, but here he remained, trying to find his own way out. “I’m not the family member who stays.”

Leon’s attention turned to him again, concern warring with soft protective instinct, Daniel was bemused anyone in their right mind might be protective of him, “You’re going to leave?”

“Eventually.” It was blatantly honest, he doubted that if Warren had asked him the same thing he would have, nay could have, told the man the truth. “I’m trying to get away from all of this,” Daniel gestured his free hand out toward London, but he didn’t mean the city, something in Leon’s gaze told him the man knew he didn’t mean the city either, “To find home. To make a home.” 

“Well, you have me till then.” Leon reached out and ruffled his hair. “And I’ll deck that doctor if he gets fresh with you, just you ask me.” 

Daniel barked a laugh, loud and sharp and somewhere from high overhead an unearthly caw joined it, a raven’s cry that sent a spike of ice down his spine. But looking up revealed nothing and even though Leon had obviously heard it too, the man looked less disturbed by the sound than Daniel did. Sheepishly looking back to Leon he held the lamp up and nodded his head back to the estate, "Thank you Leon, but again, it won't be necessary, I'm quite capable of taking care of it." 

When they went to enter again it was to almost be knocked over by a massive form, and Daniel would have fallen and dashed the oil all over himself if Leon hadn't grabbed him from behind and held him up. The panic that had surged was bitten down and turned quickly to a mixture of nausea from being jolted so abruptly into a fit of nerves and the equally quick comedown of relief. The great strapping figure of the Pinkerton detective took a step back after almost bowling Daniel right over. 

"Shit, sorry." The man stated, and Daniel could not remember his name, "You're looking better." 

Daniel was not sure at what point the man had seen him in a state of disarray, there were so many exciting possibilities over the last few days alone. Leon behind him hefted him to a more steady stand, and the Pinkerton reached out to help him. "Rest does wonders." And otherworldly devices combined with the unholy change in him, that did wonders too. Shifting his eyes past Daniel, the man narrowed his gaze at Leon, staring at him hard. Daniel could practically hear Leon swallow hard behind him. 

The American had at least ten years of them, maybe, or perhaps life had just been hard on the man, Daniel was not an exceptionally good judge of faces. "Do I know you?" The man asked, still staring hard at Leon.

"Nope!" Leon chirped and steered them around the man, pushing Daniel, practically carrying him forward. "Good night!" Leon called down the stairs.

Up on the landing Daniel dug his heels in, choking down the laugh, "What was that all about?"

Leon paled and peered down the stairs, a desperate glance, but the American was gone, "Remember how I just told you about my good friend, who is practically like my sister?"

"Yes, if I did not remember a conversation we quite literally just had I would worry very much for my state of mind."

"Well, that's her actual brother, and he doesn't like me, at all."

"Why ever not?" Daniel peered down the steps but yes, the American was well gone. 

"I don't know! I never slept with her, she's like my sister!" Leon grasped Daniel's sleeve, "Come on, I don't want to be out here if he comes back." Leading him back into the room, found Sarah sitting and finger-coming Penelope's hair for her before the fire.

Glancing back at them at they entered she waited for word, and he recounted to her what Lenny had told them of her uncle, and also that the man would be waiting in the morning to take her to him. "And," Daniel added in close, "Hopefully we'll have a quiet morrow, and may begin to pick up the pieces." His own words conjured his thoughts to the shattered orbs in his trunk, the Shadow and his own promises, it was doubtful he would be given the time to pick up the pieces, he'd made a deal after all, he owed a favor to some kind of extradimensional entity, whatever that might entail. 

Setting the lamp down he melted onto his own bed, flopping sideways till his head rested on the sad pillow. His blanket had been claimed by Penelope while they'd gone but he didn't find he needed it. Leon cast a nervous glance at the door before he too sat on Daniel's bed, back at the foot of it. 

"I would suggest we all get some rest to prepare us for tonight." Daniel glanced over at the ladies huddled together and he knew propriety would force him to give up the bed he'd just fallen onto. "I know it is an accommodation far lower in standard than either of you are used to, but I hope you will not be too put out sharing the bed?" He pushed himself to sit up and Leon muffled a groan at the realization he too would have to stand up right again. 

"I used to crawl into bed with nanny, when I was a little girl, it would be just like when I was a child, how lovely." Penelope turned to take Sarah's hand in her own. "Come my dearest friend!" And easily Sarah went where Penelope led her, even though Daniel knew how Sarah felt on Penelope. There was less subterfuge in this though, they all of them knew Penelope shouldn't be here, and yet it was because of her they were all there to begin with. Pausing when the two groups moved to pass, Penelope put herself up on tiptoe to press a chaste kiss to Daniel's cheek, and then to the policeman's surprise to Leon's too. "Good night our brave knights."

There was no real divider to be found in the room but Daniel and Leon turned the lounge sideways to face the window and then sat side by side upon it. There would have been enough for one of them to lay down but not the both of them, not without one of them nearly laying atop the other. When the ruffle of cloth that was the girls behind them had settled down to quiet breath and the lanterns dimmed, Daniel's eyes adjusted to the glow of the firelight, and he glanced sideways to see Leon watching him. When caught the blonde didn't look away though, he just kept looking at Daniel, studying him in the firelight.

It wasn't the way that Seward looked at him when he was hungry and seeing Daniel as a ghost, it wasn't the way Penelope had looked at him far earlier that morning, before everything had gone to hell thrice over and she'd been seeing a potential husband that would rewrite history for her and put everything right again, it was not romantic nor fleeting. Leon reached out into the distance between them and pushed his hand into Daniel's hair again, as he had been when Daniel awoke to Leon carding it back. When Leon pulled him over and inward Daniel went but it was not into a kiss or an ardent embrace. Leon pulled him in till Daniel's shoulder was against his chest, the curve of his cheek to Leon's shoulder. Leon pressed his lips against Daniel's hairline, the most fleeting of kisses, and wrapped him up in his arms. Together their legs tangled together and Daniel remembered what Leon had spoken of earlier.

That those you survived these things with, these traumas and events, preternatural or otherwise, became close to you. Closer than blood, and Daniel felt his tension ease, his eyes drifting shut as rest finally found him. They knew nothing of one another but he trusted Leon and Sarah. He even trusted Penelope even though it hurt to see glimpses of himself in her. At least no one would lie to her about salvation, at least Penelope would never have to shed blood to save herself. It hurt to see parts of himself there, yes, but he was not the Baron, and he would not damn Penelope to be reborn like he had. 

Leon's breath settled into the soft deep brush of slumber that ruffled through Daniel's hair every so often, and he closed his eyes to the light of the room and listened to the combined breathing of his three compatriots and rested. He did not sleep, could not bring himself to, even though he doubted any one of them could have slept long except maybe Penelope, not with what was to come. 

But still he lay quietly in Leon's arms as the hours slid by, and while he did not sleep, he drifted. 

The Baron had once sat in the chair that Sarah had piled the dishes from dinner upon, silly he'd dragged the stupid thing all the way from Prussia, and yet he had. These few remaining pieces of Brennenburg were as much a part of his past as the letters and books he'd been collecting since returning to London.

Wherever the Baron had gone, there would be nothing to remind him of Daniel, he had taken nothing with him through the portal, nothing could come with him, not even Daniel. All impurities cast aside, and so wherever the Baron was now, home again, he was free of such reminders. The poor little mad Archaeologist, whose evil and wrongness had sunk deep. Daniel knew that his fever dream impression of the Baron's hidden actions towards him were just that, dreams. Fantasies conjured by the same mind that the Baron had called Evil. That was part of it wasn't it, though, that he could still hunger after still love a man that had defiled his very soul. The evil in Daniel had been there all along, from infancy. He could only hope that escaping this reality would finally give him the reprieve he desired. 

Thoughts trapped upon the Baron and his chair, it took some time for Daniel to rouse as the tapping, repetitive as it was. When he lifted his head from Leon's shoulder to try and find the cause of the sound it silenced entirely, but his movement had awakened Leon.

"It's time." Daniel stated, knowing that the tapping was their call to arms, a beak against the windowpane to tell them to prepare. 

Sarah bundled Penelope up in the throw to protect her from the elements and Daniel put on the coat that had been brought up for him along with dinner. It was baggy but it would do until he could recover his own from Warren's estate. Into the pocket he slipped his soapstone and his favorite of the two daggers. 

Leon had kept the pipe from the alleyway which armed two of them, and Sarah carried with her the pairing knife tucked into the loops of her belt to set it at three. Looping her arm with Penelope's, Sarah led them down the stairs and into the silent foyer. Just as Leon had estimated for them, the streets were empty, and emptier still were the alleyways they navigated, Leon in the lead with one dim lantern and Daniel at the back with a second. Above them to buildings towered, blacking out the sky and Daniel tried not to look at how their shadows were elongated and made strange and monstrous by the doubled lantern's dim brown-glass glow. 

The bathhouse was a different place entirely at night when abandoned. Easily Leon used his pipe to break open the chain lock on the back door, rusted as it was, it was clear that the door was not often used, if at all, and the store room on the other side of the door was just as disused as the lock, filled with old empty crates and cobwebs. Entering right after Leon, Daniel held his lantern high and looked around at the empty shelving, feeling a sharp snap of deja vu. Of course it was far less impressive than the castle, but with the old stone walls and the high arched ceiling there was a certain similarity. Leon's boots crushed a piece of stray wood and Daniel was called back to the here and now, reaching back he helped Penelope over a box shoved in the way of the door. Sarah helped herself just fine, but she was luckily wearing slacks. 

Penelope now without Sarah to moor her, latched onto Daniel, and he allowed her to link their arms, locking his other arm in place at the shoulder to hold the lantern high still. Together he and Leon lit their path from the old storage room and deeper into the building. 

In day's light the space had not seemed so ancient, now in the dark and quiet, empty and as such lacking the presence of others to distract Daniel and push him towards finishing his business as quickly as possible, he could trace the architecture back. Stone and lacking wooden infrastructure entirely, the building had no doubt survived several burnings, several centuries of use. That a bathhouse might survive through the heart of London sense Roman times was nearly impossible, but Daniel was certain the building was very old just the same, and held the same romantic architecture of the occupation, and founding. The aqueducts and roads remained, in his fancy perhaps this place had too. 

"Oh, it's beautiful." Penelope said at his side as they entered the changing room that led to the baths proper, her attention drawn to the carved statuary and stone benches, the fountains set up against the walls to wash oneself with before they took to the bathing pools. Daniel's attention was on the floor though, the marble gleaming up at him, and he hoped that the ring of his boots upon it meant that it was not some kind of new-aged composite. What the ritual required by 'real' marble, Daniel had no idea, he hadn't even known there was such a thing as 'fake' marble till today. Breaking free of Penelope once she was distracted by the statues, he hung his lantern up on a peg meant for a robe and then he surveyed the space. Arms outstretched he used his own form to measure the dimensions of the room, Sarah watching him from the sidelines while Leon checked the security of the doors. 

"We should have brought some chalk or charcoal along," Sarah whispered and yet still her voice echoed loud in the domed room, "Would have made the painting easier."

"No need, I know it." Daniel told her and then, having measured the space out in his mind properly, he slipped the blade from his pocket and held it steady. There was a skylight above them, not native to the structure, probably it had replaced an even earlier dome or structure that had risen the original building higher but who had either fallen out of fashion in style or been destroyed by something. The glass allowed moonlight to join with their two lanterns and when he shifted the curved knife in his hand the silver blade glinted with that silver moonlight, such a beautiful and lovely thing. Daniel remembered the contrast of silver in the deeper tan of the Baron's steady hands. 

The first slice to his palm was so quick he didn't feel it at all, not for one glorious breath, until the beat of his heart carried the rush of his blood out of the severed vein, and then he was feeling the bitter beat of his heart as painful in the palm of his split open hand. Penelope whimpered and pressed herself against the wall, but he didn't have time for her. Crouching down to balance his weight on his heels he began the laborious process of painting the ward that had been burned into his brain out on the cold marble. In his ears was soon nothing but the rush of his own blood. The floor was cold where he braced himself against it, nothing like the heat of a body, nothing like the well worn wood of the work tables and torture implements in the prison. Still in the rush of his ears he could hear the encouragement, in the burn of his blood. Even as he bled out slow and syrup on the ground his skin grew hot, his thoughts too sharp and quick. 

Someone grasped his shoulder and he jerked away from the grip "Alexander, you must let me be, I have to concentrate.", but the little gasp that reached his ears wasn't right, he stood sharply, nearly dropping his blade. Sarah took his shoulder again, looking up at him, but he was not looking at her and instead at the ward lines he had painted all over the ground, intricate and perfect and it must have taken him half an hour or more, even though he'd only felt it pass as a matter of seconds, transported so entirely he had been away from that place, and he looked down at his arm to see that one cut had become many, tracking up the length of his arm and with trembling hand he replaced the blade and with Sarah's help pulled the stone free from his pocket. Passing it over the length of his arm he carefully knitted the skin back together but it did nothing against his own blood loss. He felt light headed, still too fever-sharp and shaky but there was still too much to do.

Stepping back, Sarah walking backwards alongside him, he took a good look at his own handiwork. The warding was a madness of lines and angles, it formed a circle open at one end, with a valise shaped space in the middle that funneled in from the opening. "Penelope and I will go into the circle," Daniel pointed to the open center, the bulb at the middle of it, "When it comes in after us I will make an opening through the ward for us to escape and once clear of it, I will close it back up again. Right as it opens, Sarah you will close the circle, nothing more difficult than a simple barrier should suffice, if you might draw one for me with some of my... spare blood, so that I can see, I would be obliged." 

Daniel slumped and would have fallen if Leon hadn't been right there to catch him. He'd almost forgotten about the man entirely, so quiet he'd become since they entered the bathhouse. Leon lowered him to one of the benches, on the other side of the room Penelope was staring at the floor with a certain detached numbness Daniel envied her for. "Easy there," Leon whispered, and slipped the stone back into Daniel's pocket, "How are you holding up, firecracker?"

"Better than I expected to be, actually." Daniel rested his head back against the wall, watching as Sarah did as he'd asked, beginning to sketch something upon the ground with some of his blood from when he'd finally backed away from the work. "You?"

"Worried about you mostly, I don't like you two being in there alone, what will I be doing during all of this anyway?" 

Daniel closed his eyes, just for a moment, just to gather himself, "We need you to make sure it goes in, you're good with that pipe, funnel it as best as you can and make sure Sarah is able to close it on her end." 

Leon's hand rested gently on Daniel's thigh, and opening his eyes he first looked at it, and then up at Leon, licking his lips nervously. Leon was undeniably handsome in a youthful way, and while the touch was not overtly romantic, as nothing Leon did seemed to be, it still made Daniel's breath go a little funny so close to his own bloodletting and memories of the Baron's biting commentary. 

"Please be careful, Daniel." Leon told him, patting his leg once before moving to stand and walk toward the darker parts of the room, leaving his lantern behind and as such melding away in his dark clothing so that not even Daniel's improved night-sight could pick the man out of the dark corners, not until the pipe shifted in Leon's grip and the dull metal reflected back the promise of his presence. 

Daniel stood, took a look at Sarah's work and nodded when she looked up at him, "That's better than I managed at the house last night." God, had it really only been the night before? He felt like a week had passed, and yet he knew that was right, he'd just saved Penelope the very night before. Last night Warren had been fine and unmaimed, and the night before that Wheatley had been alive. 

After Sarah he went to Penelope, still pressed to the wall, still staring at the floor, reaching out he took her hand and she did not draw away from him, instead she reached out with her other hand and pressed it to his oft-abused palm. "I don't want to go in." She whispered up at him, her blue eyes focused on him and yet not, "Can't we run?" She whispered, "I don't want to face it."

He looked down at her and saw a young man with auburn hair who had run, who had run and drawn blood, who had gone insane, "It would be far kinder to you if we let it kill us, than if we ran, Penelope. Trust me?" He held her hands up between them and kissed her knuckles, like a proper gentleman, like the gentleman he was not and never would be, but it had its intended effect, she was entranced by the attention, held onto his words as she held onto his hands, "Do you trust me, Penelope?"

"Yes, I do." Oh and was that not the wrong answer entirely? She shouldn't trust them, none of them should trust him.

"Good, come on then." He led her around the circle, almost as if they were dancing, their hands still both joined, and at the opening to the ward he squeezed her hands. "Don't look at it, look only at me." 

"Only at you." She repeated softly. 

He walked backwards through the opening and as soon as he passed the warding it shot to life, a glow on the stone that burned over it like fey lights, rose almost to the ceiling in a wall of shimmering air. Penelope did not break her gaze from him as he passed her over and it singed her skirt but she didn't feel it, didn't see it, only had eyes for him. Once they were in the womb of the warding he could no longer see the room around them, so odd and bright their little magic circle had become. 

And as if it had been there all along, it roared it's triumph at seeing it's quarry so contained, trapped right for it with no doubt the hubris of their own pride, Daniel could understand the thing's thinking as crashed through the door for them, right past where Leon had secreted himself, Daniel could only see a sliver through the doorway built into the ward, but it was coming, he could see it past Penelope who had screwed her eyes up tight quite stupidly at the first riotous scream. He'd told her, he'd told her where to focus, he couldn't help it now. He did not have the luxury of looking away like the first time or tight confines and glimpses of the second. It came, slipping through the opening in the warding, and Daniel roughly shoved Penelope behind himself and pressed them up against the sparking wall of the warding. 

"Gift to the Deep Ones," It hissed a greeting to him, behind him Daniel knew the exact moment that Penelope failed to follow his order, her tittering was rising, the manic crest of her madness as she looked onto proof of the Other and lost her mind, there was nowhere to run, nowhere to turn, the thing was not entirely inside the circle, coming slowly, slipping in like fog, "They will be interested in discovering what truth runs through your veins." 

Too many eyes, too many changing features, like a hundred victims all fallen into the same tarpit, a creature made of formless shapes, ever developing, ever adapting. When it took a scraping step towards them Penelope's scream raised, Daniel fought the urge to backhand her, furious and with his thoughts divided so dangerously, Seward had been right, this was fault, she wasn't strong enough. He didn't have time to think about Penelope, he took a step forward, left his blade in his pocket, he was almost within reach of that thing, could feel the heat of it's ever-evolving form radiating off of it, vile against Daniel's front. 

When Leon's pipe impacted with the 'rear' of the beast it lurched forward and Daniel took a dancing step back, scraped his foot right through his own ward and shoved Penelope hard through the guttering break of his ward-wall. Behind him Sarah was closing one side, and in this circle, Daniel knew what he'd known all along, that the Shadow had never left him. The Shadow had not found him in that house, it had been there all along, tainted in him and he'd welcomed it to ride along, look through his eyes when he'd looked it eye to eye finally, used those dead bird-eyes as a mirror to see what had hunted him for so very long, but that had been with him since Brennenburg. He closed the circle up from the inside, biting his knuckle open, enough blood to fingerpaint the scrape back over. 

He felt the Thing bare down on him, felt heavy weight impact but it was too late for it already. It was too late for the Shoggoth, the Guardian had been there all along. For what was Daniel now but the protector of the orbs? Going to finally take them away so they could do no more harm to innocents, to finally set the Guardian's long eternity to rest. No more innocents would die to power those unholy artifacts, a human man would never seek to use those devices again. 

He hit the ground and rolled beneath the great form and wriggled to the edge of the circle, he could no longer hear the screams from outside, the ones inside were too loud. It was dark and without the night-sight of the Guardian as Shadow over his eyes he found it hard to see what was happening but oh he could hear it. The Guardian was everywhere, just as it had been in Brennenburg, it took over every bit of necrotic and inorganic host it could find, and in this state it had descended on the fabricated life of the Shoggoth and began to absorb it from the inside out. Screaming the Thing twisted and turned above and around Daniel. He still could not hear the words that Leon had recalled to him, it was calling for it's Gods, not by name but it was all the same, when the Shadow was deep inside it even called for the Creators, begging for forgiveness. but now it's voice was not entirely it's own, and with a triumphant cry of dozens of voices, centuries of victims, the Guardian devoured the parasite whole. 

When the amorphous tunnel of pulsating flesh, blood and life, descended upon Daniel he could do little more than sob, his own sanity snapping as the dark took him down one last time. It was time for the Guardian to take it's due. He could only hope that Sarah and Leon would get Penelope out before she could go entirely mad, if she had not already, some people were never meant to see the Dark come to life, he certainly had never been one before the Damascus Rose.


	17. Ballet Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadow is super Effective against Shoggoth.
> 
> Shadow has learned Dimension Leap.

"Daniel?" The voice was very gentle, Daniel recognized it, through the layers of his consciousness.

"Agrippa?" He opened his eyes and was laying on a low bed, around him were so many floor pillows, the architecture of the room was inhuman. He was not expecting to see an elderly man above him, elderly yes but in impossibly good health, bright eyes and a searing intellect, handsome in an arresting way.

"Isn't he?" A young man's voice asked and Daniel's head pivoted, he knew him without knowing him, Weyer. The former student of Agrippa was standing before a table, a great number of apothecary tools and crystals set upon it.

Daniel flushed heavily and the elder man turned a quelling look toward Weyer and spoke, "Johanne behave yourself, you know to listen with your ears to what a man says and leave him his privacy." It was Agrippa's voice in the old man's body and it brought tears to Daniel's eyes, stinging painful, grateful.

"Am I dreaming?" Daniel whispered.

"No dear boy, you seemed to have been deposited right at our doorstep, for whatever reasons or means I can only be thankful." Agrippa reached out as he was never able to do before, not physically, and he brushed Daniel's hair back from his ruddied cheeks, "You have come home."

Behind Agrippa the younger man caught Daniel's eyes and there was such sorrow there, he glanced at his mentor, his teacher, and Daniel understood now why Weyer had fought so hard to get the Baron to let Agrippa go, he loved him, as much as Daniel had found himself in love with his own esoteric mentor. 

"Agrippa, he isn't here to stay." Weyer spoke the truth. "Too many unresolved threads still. I feel whatever benefactor left you at our doorstep knew you must recover, and you've been doing so for days now, you were waltzing with death when we found you." 

"But, but you are home dear boy!" Agrippa cupped Daniel's cheek, "What could you possibly have waiting for you back there?"

It was the truth wasn't it, all Daniel had been striving to do back in London was to get out of it, but here in this potential dream he knew he had too many loose threads to leave the tapestry undone, the orbs, Warren's condition, the responsibility he had to see through till the end of those events that started in Algeria and carried to Brennenburg. It wasn't done, it would never be done. Maybe if he'd killed the Baron, crushed the orbs to dust, maybe then he could have been done with it all. But that was not the path he'd taken. 

Weyer was a hearty man, with a feline grace and sharp eyes, and he came forward in so arresting a manner it broke Daniel from his focus upon Agrippa. Letting his hand rest on Agrippa's shoulder he looked down at Daniel, when he spoke it was not aloud, it was just like the first time he'd met Weyer, so long ago it felt now, just another voice tumbling around in his empty aching head, but now it was softer, quieter, he had adapted to this. 

'Daniel, you don't need to go back. I know you feel as if you have to but Agrippa loves you, I love you because of his adoration of you. We would take care of you. You've done enough, you have to know, you have to realize by now you have paid enough penance. I tricked him and he tricked you and none of it was your fault, you were reborn.'

'I will never be done paying that penance, you know why.' Daniel told him, not with words, no, they never needed words, cut from the same cloth. 

"You chastise me and yet now you carry on conversation without me?" Agrippa only spoke with good humor. "How do you propose we would send him back then? You don't even know where he came from Johanne." 

"The Guardian, I think it put me out here." Daniel looked at the twin expressions of shock upon his host's faces and explained then what had happened since Herbert's tablet had come in the post. While he spoke Agrippa had begun to change the myriad of bandages on his person, Daniel only then noticed he was naked in the bed under the thin blanket. Weyer gave him a little smile when he tried to keep covering himself up, after Agrippa had uncovered him to work on some part of him. He didn't know what exactly had happened to him when he'd shut himself up with the Shoggoth, but found he was thankful he'd been out for most of the recovery, if the massive amounts of spent bandages and what looked like necrotic skin in a bin by the bed were any indication, he was better off out for that process of healing. 

"So then I suppose that the Guardian can also take you back whenever it decides." Agrippa did not at all sound happy about this. "A new skill entirely, it has likely picked it up from the Shoggoth, I wonder if it thought to consume the Kaernk too, so as to make use of it's abilities. Albeit the one you sent our 'Dear' friend was half rotted away, perhaps it had less to draw from." Agrippa smiled, and Daniel thought how beautiful it looked, behind the man Weyer gave a little chuckle from the table and threw Daniel a look.

Perhaps it was Agrippa's age and Weyer's knowing smile but Daniel could not break from this, could not save himself the curiosity that burned and broke him open inside, "The Baron-" Daniel whispered, eyes downcast, "Is he here too? Somewhere?"

Agrippa's fury was a sharp snap in the air, he could even taste it, but just as quick as it had come something had drained it, Daniel did not realize until Agrippa was gently shushing him and petting back his hair that it had been he who had drained it by flinching. "Daniel, dear boy, you need never think on him again. We have seen hide nor hair of him, maybe the passage killed him, maybe he came out at another time entirely. But he is not here."

Weyer drew up and urged his mentor to rise, "I insist you let my patient rest, you can visit with Daniel later, Agrippa." He did not allow the man to argue much with him, and while it was strange to see Agrippa as something more than a husk he was still far far hail and healthy, looked baked by the sun practically and Weyer was strong and young. It was likely what before-Daniel had hoped to imply in his letter, despite being so very wrong, the Baron was not weak, at least not to Daniel, his will alone far outstrengthed Daniel.

When the door had shut he closed his eyes, body going limp on the bed, and he feigned sleep until he felt a warm hand come to test his pulse. "Much of your skin had been burned by some acidic substance, I doubt you felt it at the time, it had a paralytic agent." 

"Might you do anything about tuberculosis too?" Daniel rasped, pushing down his humor at the thought of having his skin regrown, what sort of work Weyer did, clearly he'd put Agrippa in an entirely new body. 

He felt a hand press to the center of his chest, and he opened his eyes to look up at the man above him. Weyer had a spackle of freckles across his sunburnt nose, bright blue eyes and a hard jawline. His skin was a shade lighter than Agrippa's but had also been deeply tanned by years under a baking sun. "I don't have that kind of kit here, I would have to take you to the capitol." Weyer removed his hand and sat back, looking at Daniel as Daniel had been looking at him, studying, considering. 

"You do need to rest," Weyer seemed to come to some decision, "I doubt the Guardian will leave you with us long, not with the Deal you made with it, likely it figured where to dump you to put you in one piece again, I suppose if you wanted to stay here we could work something against the thing, there are ways of course, but I can see in you a familiar stubbornness." Weyer's gaze glanced to the doorway, just a half moment, before returning to Daniel, "Rest. I'll be back soon with some solid food."

Until the door had shut and he'd been left alone in the room he didn't think he'd be able to sleep at all, but once Weyer had gone he found it impossible to leave his eyes open, and he wondered if the man had somehow drugged him when he'd touched his hand, but then he was wondering nothing at all for sleep had claimed him.

The dream was a familiar location, the workroom in the prison, but today it was clean of the blood of suffering, and Daniel was not half-mad with laudanum, merely he usual amount of jumpy as he moved through the chamber. He came to the shut door of yet another workroom and knocked quietly at the door. When he stepped forward, he also hung back, so that the dream Daniel and the memory Daniel segmented. 

He watched himself go forward, calling out weakly into the semi-dark for his mentor, "Alexander?" echoing through the hollow room. Behind this Daniel, the dream Daniel followed slowly, looking curiously at the Castle as he had never seen it, clean - kept. By the last days everything had been a mess as they worked against the clock, this was somewhere much farther back on the timeline, not that Dream Daniel could recall exactly when. 

The Baron was working with chemicals at a work station, "Ah Daniel, I was not expecting you to be awake for some time yet, I would have come up, I apologize." He could not afford to look at Daniel as he spoke, the work took most of his attention. 

"No I'm sorry Alexander, I should have stayed in my room, I just-" leaning forward the memory him looked to what Alexander was working on with open curiosity, "What are you doing?"

As Alexander explained the chemical composite to the memory, the dream version of Daniel turned, leaving them to their impromptu chemistry lesson. 

The castle was silent, this was no longer a memory, but a combination of hundreds of different ones and his own terror-fueled flight through them. But yet there were no beasts lurking in the dark waiting to grasp him, none of those horrible servants made of tortured flesh and ghastly form. The Shadow had not yet found him there in Brennenburg. Right now the Baron's home was his home, and he walked the deep chambers, passing through parts of it he never had, not until that final day. 

The chamber of the orbs lacked his own, there was still an unearthly glow there and while this was a dream there was a certain veneer of reality that made everything look sharper than it had in the rest of the castle. 

"He was absolutely livid with me." Weyer spoke at his elbow and Daniel glanced over in surprise to see the man standing beside him, "When I went without him. I had every intention of-" here Weyer stopped, sighing, "Alright I didn't at the time, I was young and impulsive and the thrill of it took me, and I knew from the computations I'd run there would be no way the method we were working with could support a sustained gateway, let alone enough for all three of us. He had not told us everything, and I did not trust him, I did not trust him not to go through without us when he figured out what I had already determined from my research." 

Weyer gestured his hand toward Daniel, the orbs before them, and the castle around them, "I think you know what happened after that." 

"He went mad." Daniel whispered, "Or more mad than he'd already been."

"I only asked for a little bit of trust from him, Daniel. If he'd just set Agrippa free of that infernal prison, I would have helped them both through." 

Daniel did not particularly like Weyer. Of course it was not the man's fault Daniel had ended up in Brennenburg, or maybe it was. Maybe if the Baron had been gone already Herbert would never have had the resources or information that had led to the Algeria expedition, if Alexander was gone then Daniel would have had no one respond to his letter and then he would be blessedly dead, another victim of the Guardian. But that was in itself unfair to Weyer, for the man was likely right, the Baron would have certainly taken his only chance to return home and abandoned his compatriots, Daniel could not at all imagine a reality where the man wouldn't have done just that when faced with the option. 

"I am sorry, for what happened to you. I do wish you would reconsider our offer."

Glancing at Weyer he noticed the man was just as clear as the rest of the room, "You're in my dream with me?"

Weyer's lopsided smile reminded him slightly of Leon's, "It is a skill you would likely pick up too, the longer you stayed with us. Agrippa finds that dreams give him a headache, too ephemeral and filled with gaps of logic, but I find them invigorating. We could even teach you to keep them locked up from others." Weyer glanced up toward the ceiling of the chamber, toward the castle above them, "From Creatures like Alexander." 

"Weyer?"

"Please call me Johanne." The man's touch was hot against Daniel's arm, intimate and almost coy, and he looked hurt when Daniel instinctually jerked his arm back, "Daniel, I would never hurt you."

Daniel flushed, "If it's all the same, I- please don't touch me." He broke his gaze from Weyer's, unwilling to look at the hurt in his eyes, "Do you really think he's dead?"

The other man gave a sigh and turned his gaze from Daniel, to look at the orbs before them, a soft strength in him, "No, as much as I wish he was, we would have no doubt heard word of him before now if he had decided to reclaim his land and title, but he remains missing. It is also possible he has simply not arrived yet. Time works differently here, than anything you are used to." Clasping his hands behind his back, Weyer carefully walked between the pedestals, back straight and his soft-soled boots making little sound on the stone floor. "When did you fall in love with him?" It was not an accusation, instead Weyer sounded soft and sad. "I won't tell Agrippa, he'd feel like he failed you, that you remembered that, but when was it? Do you even remember?"

Daniel closed his eyes in the dream but it did nothing to keep him from seeing, he slipped deeper, and what he saw instead of the Orb Chamber was the castle's foyer, the frail yet impossibly imposing figure of the Baron standing before Daniel, taking his hands as Daniel stood beside his travel trunk. The memory Daniel was his own kind of frail, and far more fragile, he hung upon the Baron's every word. 

"Thank you Baron, I am in your debt."

"No, my dear friend, you must call me Alexander, for I feel as if I have known you centuries. Come Daniel, you must be tired, worn, here there is safety for you."

Trembling, the dream Daniel, who did not remember this till now, who did not recall so clearly the way that the Baron had said his name that first time, had insisted he call him Alexander, remembered now and knew. "Then, that was when." 

Love at first sight, carved into his sick-soul, torn open and riddled with lies but with the Baron's full attention upon him, the rasp of the man's fingertips against his palm, he was gone. A silly romantic notion, and it was sad really, a fairy tale just as Seward had spoken of, but one that had ended so desperately wrong. 

"Does that make me a monster?" Daniel turned his head, to see Weyer watching the memory of him be led up the stairs.

"No, it makes you human."

What woke him up was the smell of cooked meat, spices. He groaned and pushed himself to sit up only to be aided swiftly thereafter, Agrippa's steady rasp of a voice telling him to go easy. Daniel's head swum a little when he was upright entirely but he steadied out quick enough. "Where is Weyer? I, Johanne, where is he?" 

"Gone to make deals with the traders, looking for clothing to fit you no doubt. I am far too thin and he is too wide for us to share with you." 

Daniel was strong enough to feed himself so Agrippa left him with the tray of little dishes, and Daniel did not recognize the taste of any of the spices but they were comforting none the less, some numbing his mouth, others burning it. He had finished up and was licking his fingers clean fastidiously when the door opened again, but it was not Weyer in the doorway, and Agrippa seemed very surprised to see someone else there.

"Who are you?" Agrippa stood quickly, alarm warring with nerves but Daniel only had eyes for the tall figure in the doorway. 

His skin was as baked brown as Agrippa's own but far less wrinkled, his youthful body was thick and muscled, hair a deep rich black. It was his eyes that took the breath from Daniel, empty-void, the eyes of that dead bird, reflections in glass, deep dead water, stagnant and unending. 

Daniel gasped and then the lights were dashed out in the room, or, no, no that wasn't right, there was no light at all, nothing. He screamed but opening his mouth to draw air had drawn in something else instead and it filled his lungs, expanded, forced it's way inside. He choked, filled up to bursting.

When he choked again a splatter of black hit the marble floor. He rolled, his whole body burning up, aching like he'd been cut up a million times, he coughed again and the food that Agrippa had given him purged along with thick fleshy tubers and black slick. Someone was screaming, a woman was screaming, wrong, something very wrong with her, inhuman, and broken, broken up inside and nothing would ever fix that crack. Daniel's hands slid along the wet stone and there were suddenly hands against him, tugging, pulling him up, smacking against his back until more of the sick inside of him pushed out. When the black had turned to thick red his head rolled back and he found his body seizing with the choking. The skylight above them was slick with rain but still he could see the moon shining down on them, right past Leon's terror stricken face. 

Sarah smacked his chest, hard enough to bruise, and his back arched, the points of the star cutting into his skin and her own, he gasped, once, twice, and finally breath filled his lungs. 

"Stop her," Sarah pushed Leon, "Shut her up!" Penelope remained screaming, and scrambling up Leon tried to gather her, only to have her fight desperately, screaming ever louder. Daniel struggled to stand, Sarah trying to get him to still until she perhaps realized that if she didn't help him he would struggle until he hurt himself. Lurching forward with her aid, he came to that maddened creature, holding Leon at bay only by the policeman's own gentlemanly nature. 

Daniel backhanded her, and she spun with the force, a swipe of his own blood left across her face. She fell and Leon barely caught her before she hit the ground entirely.

Now there was silence. Leon and Sarah were holding their breath, Penelope had been knocked unconscious, and the rain outside had stopped. Somewhere a dripping pipe broke the quiet, somewhere far away. 

Sarah shuffled him over to a bench, sat beside him. "Daniel, it was all over you, it was all over you and then it was gone." Her voice trembled but she was still strong, "I-" she thought he'd been dead, "Are you alright?"

No, "Yes." He rasped out, pushed the stone back into his pocket, braced himself against the bench and leaned forward to steady his breathing, to catch up. Time worked differently where he'd been. The Guardian hadn't taken it's payment yet, but now he knew it could take more shapes than just possessed black birds, he wondered if that was another thing it had learned to do from the Shoggoth. "We need to clean up as best as we can and get out of here before Penelope wakes up, I've no idea if she'll decide to start screaming again but I fear we might have already drawn unwanted attention."

"That wasn't normal, that wasn't right." Leon whispered, laying her down, "She didn't sound human anymore." 

Daniel remembered the edge of animalistic insanity that had begun to creep into his voice during his flight through Brennenburg. That would have been him, had he looked too long into the Darkness, had he opened his eyes and seen too much. Penelope was gone, only time would tell if she would ever come back, but he did not have the luxury to feel guilty yet. 

Leon laid the woman down and together the three of them found cleaning rags and buckets, soap. They worked like they were possessed, within minutes the rags were soaked with the blood, but the floor was washed clean, and shoving all of the cloths into a single bucket they took it out with them, leaving nothing behind. 

Standing in the back alley with their buckets and lanterns, with Penelope in Leon's arms, Daniel gathered himself and they waited for him while he thought. Taking Penelope back to the boarding house was a risk he couldn't afford, not if she awoke to scream again. "Seward." He whispered, looking to Leon with a tinge of guilt, "You'll need to carry her a touch longer, I think we need to take her to the Doctor." 

Sarah gave a sigh of relief, not that there was any wonder in Daniel as to why, she clearly wanted to see her uncle as soon as possible. 

Daniel made himself as presentable as possible and tracked down a carriage waiting outside one of the taverns. The man didn't even look sideways at the woman Leon was carrying, but there was relief in his eyes when they didn't take her to a brothel but instead gave him an address far further and as the asylum loomed and Daniel's skin crawled to bring himself closer to it, he felt the gravity of the night's events settle over him, suffocating in their weight. He was the last to take himself toward the simple house on the very edge of the estate, sticking back to tip the driver, and also to pay him extra coin to bring a message to Lenny. 

When he had finally joined them the house maid had been roused and they stood in the parlor, Leon still holding Penelope prone in his arms. Whispered words shared, another servant summoned as the maid rushed up the stairs, and there was little surprise in him when Seward came down the stairs not in a dressing gown but in a doctor's coat and fully dressed. The man had been waiting up, obviously. 

Sarah was ushered away deeper into the house and Seward took Penelope and the servant with him back upstairs, leaving Leon and himself alone in the hastily lit parlor. Daniel was beginning to feel the lack of a lit fireplace and neither of them had brought themselves to sit on the frankly very nice looking furniture and as such Daniel was nearly swaying on his feet when the door opened and a hearty looking woman in her late thirties wearing an expensive dressing gown came in, holding a candlestick in her ring-bedecked hand. 

"My husband failed to tell me we would have more guests or I would have gladly provided for you, you must forgive him his oversight." She had an unadorned face this late at night and as such the left side of her face had a ruddied complexion, an odd defect of the skin that would no doubt have been covered up during the day but this late at night even her dark tresses had been left down. She was striking for her imperfections and had a grace and coy way to her movements and speech that spoke of fine breeding and patience. She took them both in, putting her candlestick down, "You must be Daniel Tremaine," she took his hands in hers, moving so swiftly he barely registered when she had drawn close, or maybe he was just in shock from the night before, her hands were cold and steady around his, "You are just as handsome as my husband related to me." 

Daniel remembered what Seward had said about his 'arrangement' with his wife but it sent his head spinning to consider that the man had even potentially spoken of his interest in Daniel, made him feel a little nauseous too, but she was pressing him to sit, and then she was moving just as swiftly to introduce herself to Leon, taking his hand as briefly as she had Daniel's before bidding him to sit too. 

"I will bring in tea for you, taking care of that poor girl seems to have frazzled you both, and I am sure you've had a long day." With that she was gone and Leon, sitting next to him, turned to look at Daniel with an expression that was equally dumbfounded.

"I don't know what I was expecting but that's probably not normal right?" 

Daniel shrugged at Leon's question and then let his back bold to the softness of the sofa, head falling back against the rest. "Seward said..." he paused, "Never mind, I'm not sure, maybe she's just used to midnight patients. They do live right next to the asylum after all." No wonder Lenny never had a hard time fetching the doctor, it was easy to find him, his work was right next to his home. Likely the man was as married as he was to his job as he was to his wife, no wonder they had an arrangement to get what they needed elsewhere. 

They discuss the ritual, the aftermath, and Leon looks as full of shock and unmoored as Daniel feels, "What now?" Leon asks him, faith clear in his tone that Daniel has answers about where they all go from here. 

Daniel who is still trying to recover from Brennenburg, from Algeria, from everything - he has absolutely no answers for Leon but he scrambles to answer all the same, high thoughts slick like oil on glass, "Scotland Yard will likely want to investigate the attack upon Warren's estate. If we're lucky no one will notice what we did in the bathhouse. I suppose we rest tonight and you go to work when your shift begins." Daniel turned his head away from Leon, to look at the flicker of the gas lamp, "We go back to the way it all was before. Or try, as best we can." Daniel rose his eyes to the ceiling, "Wait. Heal." 

"I don't think there's any healing some wounds." Leon spoke softly and then he reached out, took Daniel's shoulder under his arm. "It's not your fault, what happened, it isn't your fault." Daniel wasn't sure which part of the whole fiasco Leon might mean. Warren's wound, Penelope's broken mind, Sarah having to replace her uncle in the ritual. "You did the right thing, you did the best you could. You almost died, Daniel." 

Not good enough ultimately, and when Dr. Seward entered instead of Mrs. Seward after quite some time in silence, drawn and eyes closed off, Daniel could see one of his failures plain as day. 

"Penelope is resting, heavily sedated. When she awoke she was inconsolable and manic." The detached manner in which Seward spoke was all the blame Daniel needed. "Do you have contact for her remaining family? Someone will need to be made aware of her state and place." 

Daniel shook his head, looking away from Seward because he couldn't bear the way the man wouldn't look at him directly despite talking to him, the detached manner in which he placed blame, it was rightful blame of course, but Daniel was too raw right now, "No, but I can locate some. I will work on it in the morning when the records at the university are open."

"You can direct them to the Asylum, I will be admitting her as soon as we clear a bed in the woman's wing." Seward rolled up his sleeves then, "Let me see to you."

"No need." Daniel spoke quickly and finally Seward did look at him straight on and confused. When Daniel held up his arms and turned them this way and that Seward's body froze up, he licked his lips in an obvious display of nerves. Daniel saw in him a suddenly spike of fury or fear, before it was all buttoned up again. 

"Magic." Leon offered for Daniel, and even though it wasn't true, it was easier than having to see Seward stare at him in that manner of silent accusation of something Daniel didn't entirely understand but knew had more to do with Jonathan than it did him. 

"I see." Seward frowned, "And were you capable of this the entire time?" 

Daniel's throat constricted, his mouth went dry, he couldn't speak so he only nodded.

Closing his eyes Seward took a deep breath, seemingly gathering himself, pushing down whatever unnamed emotions were flickering behind his closed eyes. The straight line of his spine, the passive expression on his face, the strict rigid structure of his shoulders pushed back. "Then I see you will clearly have no more use for me as your physician. I will provide you a prescription for laudanum if you promise not to overindulge. I cannot promise I will be able to convince Bedlam to release you to me again." 

"What?" Leon asked, same as Daniel was thinking, "But he's sick, he's got the consumption."

"Which I can do very little for. He knows already his best option would be to leave London and take the air on the coast, purer as it is. He has medicine already for his cough, I can continue to prescribe it for him." Seward was talking to Leon, looking at Leon instead of Daniel.

Standing, Daniel gathered himself, his borrowed traveling coat, his cold body. Weyer and Agrippa had already tended to him, "Thank you Doctor. That will be fine, I will be more circumspect and responsible with the dosage." 

"What?!" Leon stood up too, perhaps too fast for he had to catch himself on the table next to the sofa, but then he was upright and a good head higher than Daniel, standing beside him and looking imposing and more than a little upset, "He almost died tonight!"

"Leon, it's alright, I'm alright." Daniel murmured softly, trying to diffuse the situation he reached out and while it got the policeman to step closer, to put his hand on Daniel's shoulder in physical support, it did not stop Leon entirely.

"He spit up blood and worse, and he got us all out of there alive, and you're just sending him off with some prescriptions and a by your leave?"

"I cannot help someone who will not help themselves." Seward snapped.

"Wait outside Leon, I think I hear Lenny's carriage." Daniel spoke softly, and maybe it was the events of the past day and two nights, but the policeman went, practically storming yes, but he went. 

He waited till the front door shut, till they were alone in the parlor before he spoke again, "How is Warren?" 

Seward's head went back, a steadying breath, he crossed his arms before himself, "I called a friend in, an actual surgeon, to check my work when I settled him here. He will live, he will likely be wheelchair bound for months, bedbound for weeks. I've already discussed it with Carmella, we've arranged for Warren and his niece to live here until he is recovered enough to return home." He finally looked at Daniel, really looked at him, "Did you take Ms. Armitage with you?"

"Yes. Yes I did. Someone needed to close the warding circle from the other side." Daniel's voice was steel, no sign of his own remorse, his own grief. 

Seward's fury was in the glint of the gas lamp in his eyes, in the hard line of his set jaw, the way he breathed through his nose before he could finally open his mouth again without tearing Daniel apart, "What happened to Ms. East?"

"She looked directly at the creature when I told her not to." She trusted him, that's what happened to her, she'd trusted Daniel and paid the price for it. Paid the price for believing in him, let him lead her right to the end and then he let her fall.

Seward's voice was trembling when he next spoke, his hands gripping his own arms so much his knuckles were white, "Get out." There was so much finality in that voice, in that tone, and Daniel spun quietly on his heel, took himself silently out of the parlor, back out the hallway, gathered his lantern on the way out. The cold night air settled around him like a blanket and he steadied himself on the sting of it in his lungs. Leon was standing next to the front of the carriage, talking to a tired looking Lenny. 

"Got here as fast as I could, Mr. Daniel." Lenny told him, and indeed the horses were lathered. 

"Let them rest a bit." Daniel patted one of the beasts on the flank, ignoring the way Leon watched him with care and worry. "Lenny, you won't need to be summoning the doctor so much anymore. It would be better for us all, on the lawful side of things, if we kept our acquaintances at a minimum. I'll provide an address to an apothecary you can summon if I manage to faint somewhere inconvenient."

"Mr. Daniel?"

"I'd rather not be arrested, is all. Who knows what the 'Yard is going to decide about everything." Daniel murmured and then remembered that Lenny knew very little of the entire situation, and he'd rather keep it that way, "Consider it part of what you were saying earlier, about your duty to me and such." Daniel looked up at him and tried to smile, it felt weak and probably looked weaker. "It's been a very long two days." It would be dawn soon, he felt bone-deep tired and all he wanted was to curl up in bed and pass out. To sleep a week and not be haunted by dreams or the sound of his own scream coming from Penelope East's mouth. 

"And you can get me if something happens." Leon spoke up, his voice steel and worry, "I might not be the best nurse maid but I can help out in whatever way I can." Lowering his head, Daniel overheard the man whisper a curse in the direction of the house, "I can also field some of the lawful side of things, or try to." Leon glanced between them, "Do you faint a lot?" He was clearly very worried about this, about Daniel. 

"Not particularly." Daniel assured him and lowered the arm holding the lantern, his shoulder beginning to ache something awful. "I was more trying to make a joke about my former mistakes. Someone caught me when I had consumed more laudanum than I should have and under fear that I'd hurt myself on purpose with intent to kill myself I was apparently admitted to the asylum. If they call the apothecary next time... or you, then I might be spared a similar ordeal. Providing it happens again, which it will not." He stressed the last word, for everyone involved including himself. Idiot, he'd been an idiot.

"I told 'em your doctor could handle it but you've got a lot of people fond a'you, Mr. Daniel, they was just worried. Y'know if someone else'd been found off their tittles with a'bottle they'd of just left them to their own selves. It's on account of you bein' so very proper and delicate." Lenny nodded in a sage manner, "Hell, they don't blink an eye when I'm fallin' down drunk."

"Thank you for your read of the situation Lenny, I'm certain that you're right." Daniel nodded towards the horses, "Might they be recovered enough?" He wanted to go home, save home wasn't possible nor was it a very good place for him, none of the homes he'd ever had actually. But the boarding house would do as home now, and although he did not want to return to that bed, he found there was little else he could do in this moment. He needed rest, for he had enough on his plate when tomorrow came properly and he would have to find contacts for Penelope. 

When Lenny assured them that the horses were fine and Leon had helped him into the carriage, Daniel perhaps shut down entirely. At some point dawn had begun to break and Leon had parted from the carriage to return to wherever it was he lived which left Daniel alone in the quiet of the carriage and the bustling city outside. It was as if he was already dreaming when he stepped out of the carriage, and perhaps this over everything else, made the figure across the street seem so ephemeral. Tall and lean, with long gathered white hair, dressed all in red. Daniel only saw him a second before he had vanished into the crowd and shaking like a leaf he parted from Lenny and took himself to the boarding house and away from his own hallucinations. 

There were still dresses hung in the window, he was missing a lantern, and his room was in all sorts of disarray. Taking up the blanket he'd bought he made a nest of it on his bed, pushing the pillow up against the headboard he curled up fully clothed, only managing to remove his boots for practicalities sake. 

Even though he'd been dwelling on it when he fell asleep, it wasn't his bed in Brennenburg he was dreaming of tonight. 

"Hold it steady." The Baron directed him. Standing in the prisons, in the work room in particular, and Daniel looked around, tightening his grip on the curved blade, on the tool he had only just used earlier that night, or well far from this night in the future at least, and in a spiteful way he not only held it steady but he walked backwards from the table and the prisoner bound to it.

"Daniel, what are you doing? Come finish it, we do not have time tonight for your-" the Baron's words are cut short when Daniel puts the knife down on the work table next to the unreadable journal the Baron kept. Leaning over it, Daniel as he is now, he's managed to unravel the code of it, and so it's easy for him to find the thread, what 'lesson' they had been working on tonight, "Daniel?" The Baron is coming closer, Daniel sways on his feet like a moth to the flame.

"I thought I saw you today." Daniel steps back, two, three steps - his boots click on the rough stone. "Right there in London, and I didn't even go after you, I was too tired, too broken. You have no idea-" now the Baron is trying in earnest to capture him, a look on his face torn vibrantly between incandescent desire and vitriolic rage, "How it felt to see you and know you weren't really there."

"Daniel, for all that is holy, stop dancing away from me." The Baron gritted out the words, hands almost talons where they stretched out toward him beseechingly. Still Daniel moved away from him, let this dream rendition of the Baron have a taste of what Daniel was living. It felt beyond powerful to watch the patience slip on the regal face, monstrous features temporarily replacing that handsome guise before the mask slid into place again. With a surge forward the Baron finally managed to grasp his wrist in a bruising grip and hold him still. 

“Stop.” So direct an order combined with the force of the Baron’s hold finally stilled Daniel’s mania. The Baron wrapped him in his arms then, pressing his cheek to the crown of Daniel’s head. Behind him the man on the rack was whimpering, bleeding out slowly from the ritualistic lines cut into his already abused flesh. Daniel’s gaze swept over him before the Baron caught his chin and turned his head till he was gazing up at him alone, all of his vision taken up by the Baron’s face. “Daniel?” 

“Baron.” Not his name, not what he called him before, title only, forced estrangement, the bravado in him was false but his tone was powered by fatigue and frustration. The tenor of his words caused the man to cup his cheek in cold hands, to run his thumb along Daniel’s cheekbone. Coveted, held up nearly off his feet, he could suddenly do nothing more than clutch to the Baron’s clothing for purchase, trying to balance himself away and yet not fall, all the way up on tip-toe. 

“I see that you are vexed with me today.” There was a hint of humor in the old man’s voice, even as he cradled Daniel up, “Well you are vexing too, interrupting our ritual. It will be ruined now and we will have to begin it all over again.” 

“Oh, how very terrible for you.” He bit out, the tips of his boots dragging on the stones as the Baron dragged him forth from the room, leaving their victim to whimper thankfully into the torture room’s empty corners. “Let me down.” His order was, not surprisingly, ignored entirely. 

When they entered the orb chamber Daniel felt a strong sense of dejavu, but Weyer was nowhere to be seen. Added that his orb was now in attendance, albeit duller than the others, and it was clear they were further along in the timeline of his shotty memories. Trembling he cast his head about, taking in the details before the Baron put his back against the cold stone and lay over him. Braced above Daniel the man frowned down at him, still cupping his cheek with one hand. 

“This isn’t precisely what I meant when I said to let me down.” Daniel murmured into the space between them, far more breathless than he wished he was in that moment. The Baron’s fingertips stroked against his cheek like one would a beloved pet, bearing down on him with his body he kept Daniel pinned effectively, and while the thought came to try and wriggle away he realized it would lead to far more breathlessness as cleverly pinned together they were. 

“What happened to put you into such a state?” 

“I drove someone insane.” Daniel bit it out, the whole truth of it, and then he was quite embarrassingly crying, tears tracking his cheeks, the Baron’s fingers tracing against them. 

“My dear Daniel, you are incapable of such a thing.”

“I put her into that situation. It’s my fault, I was responsible for her.” 

A look of calculation came over the Baron’s face, as if he were racking his brain for memories, for answers that lay somewhere, when he spoke Daniel guessed that he’d been plucking what he’d been looking for right from his thoughts, “Penelope East.” A snort of derision followed it, “As chivalrous these guilty thoughts are, you must cast them from yourself, you did your best, my bright star, my little dancer. She is not your responsibility nor was she ever your responsibility. In fact her sad attempts at flirtation alone and her blatant hints at marriage were entirely offensive and had I been there she would have been put in her place long before she looked too long at what you clearly told her not to look at.” 

Daniel blinked up at him, the passion of his words, and then he laughed, wriggling a bit under this fever-dream, clearly caused by stress and longing. 

The Baron hissed at him and held him tighter, now not just two arms but many, any premise of humanity lapsing in the face of Daniel’s mania and the truth of the dream. Two talon-like hands held his face, others held his body still, and the Baron looked down at him with his beautiful mis-matched eyes. “It was not your fault Daniel.”

“Just as the dozens, hundreds, that died to my hands were not my fault?”

“I seem to remember you drank Damascus Rose and rid yourself of those sins, my dear.” The words were a hiss but there was a hint of pride along with the thick syrup of disdain. “Something I never would have thought you capable of, had it not been so clear that you’d done just that.” 

“It doesn’t change anything, it doesn’t erase my sins, they’re still there, when I close my eyes I can still hear them sometimes.”

“Fragments of memories not entirely your own.”

“I still love you, isn’t that proof enough that I’m tainted?”

Something in the way he bit it out, angry and desolate, lost and alone, caused the Baron to jerk above him as if he’d been slapped. Gently the man stroked his face, searched his gaze, touched him in an almost reverent way, and trembling he looked up at the Baron and felt remorse for the sadness reflected there, “Is loving me truly such a trial?”

“You ruined me.” Daniel whispered, but even still he would rather die than have this sick affection ripped from him, it had become as intricately linked to his rebuilt identity as his own desire for penance had become, “I would love none other, I am gladly ruined.” 

Moving one hand up to stroke through Daniel’s hair the Baron’s grip on him turned covetous, cradling, lifting up from the pin he held Daniel to him, pressed his cheek to Daniel’s hair and rubbed against him, “We will not be alone forever, my little dancer, we will be joined again, and then nothing will take you from me.”

Empty words, but yet they still filled him with longing, how telling that his own dreams were filled with shallow platitudes. The Baron pulled back to look at him, rubbing his thumb against Daniel’s cheek, still petting through his hair till it loosened from the braid. “You don’t believe me now, and you will not till I prove it to you, but you will not be alone forever, Daniel. Soon you will no longer be chasing shadows. Just a little longer. Mein tanzer, I cannot wait to hear your laughter again.”

“Baron-“ Daniel tried to quell the ardor but calling the man by title was not working, for the mans arms just held him tighter and his murmuring became more slurred and thick against Daniel’s skin, shuddering he finally gave himself up to it, pacified by soothing touches and warm kisses. 


End file.
